#what makes sammy run?

[moorheadthanyoucanhandle]

THE BOOK WAS BETTER

One more list for 2023: Time once again to post the list of books I moved my lips to during the year just past. As always, this doesn't include articles, short stories, comic books, poems, cereal boxes, Bazooka Joe wrappers, road signs, scoreboards, skywriting, graffiti, or "the room":

N or M? by Agatha Christie

Anti-Semite and Jew by Jean-Paul Sartre

The Long March by William Styron

Hyperion by Friedrich Hölderlin

Are You There God? It's Me, Margaret by Judy Blume

Understudy for Death by Charles Willeford

The Coven by E. Howard Hunt

What Makes Sammy Run? by Budd Schulberg

Once Upon a Time in Hollywood by Quentin Tarantino

The Making of Another Major Motion Picture Masterpiece by Tom Hanks

The White Mountains by John Christopher

The City of Gold and Lead by John Christopher

The Pool of Fire by John Christopher

As usual, I must start by sheepishly noting how embarrassingly short this list is; nowhere near the optimistic length I was hoping for at the beginning of the year. But it was still a fine year's reading, kicking off with the appallingly still-relevant Anti-Semite and Jew, one of several books I pulled off the shelves at my late sister's house in Virginia as momentos when The Kid and I were back there in January for her's and my brother-in-law's funeral (my sister and her husband died less than a month apart).

The only book-length work I've ever read by Sartre, it offers, in its earlier chapters, the best, most concise distillation of the bigoted mindset that I've ever read. In the later chapters Sartre gets pretty deep in the weeds about the motivations of "inauthentic" Jews in ways that seemed to me presumptuous. But it's still an extraordinary read.

Another I pulled from my sister's shelves was Budd Shulberg's What Makes Sammy Run? This turned out to be the first of three novels in a row I read about moviemaking, all by inarguable Hollywood insiders. The title character of Schulberg's famous 1941 yarn is the conniving Brooklyn-born hustler Sammy Glick, who runs up the ladder from newspaper copy boy to studio mogul, exploiting and stepping on everybody in his path.

Supposedly Sam Goldwyn offered Schulberg money to keep the book from being made into a movie; it remains unproduced as a feature to this day, though it was done as an early TV play and a successful Broadway musical. Goldwyn is said to have called it "doublecrossing the Jews," though as Schulberg pointed out, most of Sammy's victims in the story are also Jewish. In any case, Sammy's deviousness and sociopathic mendacity are an American archetype that transcends race. My biggest take-away from the book was that, bad as Sammy is, he's still less odious than our 45th President.

Tarantino's Once Upon a Time in Hollywood is his 2021 reimagining, as a popular '70s-era paperback, of his own 2019 movie set in Tinseltown (and elsewhere) in 1969. As with the movie, it freely mixes real-life figures with fictitious characters, movies, TV shows and incidents, sometimes ridiculing sacred cows (Bruce Lee, most notably), sometimes forging into the realm of alternate history.

The book is not, however, a "novelization" in the usual sense; though he uses the same characters as in the movie, he presents them mostly in different episodes. The boyish wishful-thinking fantasy of revisionist violence with which he climaxes the film is referred to only in passing in the novel, around mid-point, while backstories and interior perspectives are explored in detail. I loved the film, but even if you didn't, you might like the book; I think I liked it a little better.

There's a sort of guileless stylistic freedom with which Tarantino writes prose fiction that I found highly enviable. For instance, throughout the novel he keeps describing a (fictitious) episode of the (real) '60s TV show Lancer on which his faded cowboy star hero has a juicy guest role as a villain. As Tarantino omnisciently describes the episode's plot, and warms to it, said plot gradually, and seemingly without conscious transition, takes over the narrative so that we no longer seem to be reading a story-within-a-story; we're just reading a good ripping western yarn.

Then when we shift back to the Hollywood story, it seems similarly artless and unfussy. This unpretentious feel may, of course, be an effect that Tarantino carefully worked to attain. But I doubt it; I think he's just lucky enough not to know better; blessedly unfettered by the "rules" of fiction writing.

Third in my unofficial Hollywood trilogy was The Making of Another Major Motion Picture Masterpiece by Tom Hanks. This one, which traces the genesis, development and shooting of a big-budget superhero flick based on a '60s-era underground comic, is also stuffed with stories-within-the-story, including two well-done fake vintage comic books, one a gung-ho '40s WWII-era flamethrower tale and the other a parody of it from the San Francisco underground scene of the '60s.

I understand the reviews for this shaggy-dog debut novel were cool at best, but I really enjoyed it. As drama it's a little mild, admittedly, with most of the characters, and especially the movie's good guy director, behaving quite respectfully and decently toward each other in a distinctly Hanksian manner. I found this sort of refreshing, and the author's digressions and obsessively-imagined worlds came to life for me. The book's overriding point seems to be that movies are made not so much by visionary artists as by relentless problem solvers.

Perhaps not surprisingly, therefore, his most vivid creation is his portrait of an insufferable young actor who's cast in the male lead and instantly paralyzes the production with his raging narcissism and unprofessionalism. The novel could have used more of this guy, and inevitably it makes you wonder if Hanks was thinking of anybody in particular.

Also, I appreciated that Hanks threw a shout-out to my beloved hometown of Erie, Pennsylvania (where he also set his directorial debut That Thing You Do!). 

Elsewhere on this blog I commented on The Coven by E. Howard Hunt and William Styron's The Long March. My year-end choice was more relaxing; I finally got around to John Christopher's "Tripods" trilogy of The White Mountains, The City of Gold and Lead and The Pool of Fire, which I'd been curious about since elementary school. Good stuff; I would have enjoyed them greatly back in my younger days. That's what I get for being lazy.

I also took on Hölderlin's Hyperion (1797), which, like The Long March, I picked up at the VNSA book sale. It's a philosophical yarn--it probably influenced Nietzche and Heidegger more than it did other novelists--written in a heightened poetic language, hence pages and pages of rhapsodizing about Love and Nature and the Beauty of Greece (where Hölderlin never set foot) and the superiority of classical Greek culture to modern culture. It can wear you down after a while, even if you more or less share his feelings.

A sample: At one point the titular hero is holding forth to his lover Diotima:

“‘Let me,’ I cried, ‘let me be yours, let me forget myself, let all the life of the body and spirit in me fly but to you; but to you, in blissful, endless contemplation! O Diotima! So did I once stand, too, before the shadowy divine image that my love created for itself; before the idol of my lonely dreams; I nourished it faithfully; I animated it with my life, with my heart’s hopes I refreshed it, warmed it, but it gave me nothing save what I had given, and when I had become impoverished, it left me poor; and now! Now I have you in my arms and I feel the breath of your breast, and feel your eyes in mine, your beautiful presence flows into all my senses, and I can bear it, now I possess all that is most glorious, and tremble no longer, yes! Truly I am not he who I was, Diotima! I have become like you, and divinity plays with divinity like children playing together!’”

To which Diotima replies:

“‘But try to be a little calmer,’ she said.”

That was my favorite line in the book.

[gayangelcrimes]

Why was there never a Hotel California episode why was there not an episode about a hotel in the middle of nowhere that looks pretty normal at first glance but the food is strangely bland because they don't use salt, and some of the other guests have no idea what year it is, and the staff are strangely insistent that they can't leave right now, and when they look closer all the people there are ghosts that aren't aware they're dead, and the hotel is cursed, and they're trapped in there

[adhdvane]

rip i did it, 5 fcking lynels, that was terrible. and now im not even going to wear it much bc im too attached to looking like a little gremlin (even tho rupee padding sure is terrible when you’re trying to farm rupees oops). if only i could wear the mask on top of the blupee headgear...

[carolinanadeau]

Sally Ann Howes in the recording studio c. 1965

[stevecore]

random shit keeping me up at night:

steve has no plans other than working at family video for the rest of his life until he randomly goes with eddie, jeff and garet to la to check out some shady record deal they've been offered, because being a formerly wanted criminal and survivors of the infamous hawkins town disaster doesn't hurt your cred as a metal band. all ozzy did was bite the head off one little bat.

they've sent out a handful of tapes and some actually get picked up, even though everyone wants money just to take a meeting. steve is planning to plant his pretty ass down on venice beach for a week and do fuck all when he's approached by an excited looking punk girl asking if he's ever acted, modelled, anything? he has a look. he has the look for a project she's working on, she's co-director, would he be interested?

which is how steve harrington end up playing one of the lead roles as an undead jock in the worst b-rate horror flick you've ever seen. the kind that gets passed around at parties as joke. robin makes fun of it for the rest of his life, but he's the best thing in it and it puts him on the map. he's got natural charm and comedic timing, and the fact that he's basically playing himself and everyone adores working with him keeps landing him bigger roles.

meanwhile eddie cannot believe his awesome scream king boyfriend and the fact that he's casually hanging out with some of eddie's heroes. he's filming with john landis. cronenberg wants him for project. barbara crampton gushes about working with him. steve didn't even know who half these people were, is an unrepentant romcom fanboy. when asked by fangoria who he'd like to work with in the future he says john hughes, and everyone thinks its a really funny joke. only eddie knows how much of a dweeb steve really is.

corroded's kind of dead in the water at this point, but they've got a solid first album and steve is pretty close with the director he's working with at the moment, and the film is in development mainly off of steve's typecasting anyway. so steve is like "sammy, what about a psychadelic metal concept album running through the entire film?" and eddie's like "did you just call sam fucking raimi 'sammy'?" and sam is like "sure, set something up" *shrugs and goes back to writing about a demonic witch cult that steve's unassuming quarterback has to fight off with a cursed bible and a nail bat in a small town in iowa (some of which is steve's idea, thank you very much, its a collab for the ages)*

corroded coffin's soundtrack ends up a success, and much later a lauded cult classic. they get signed by someone who doesn't work out of a basement. steve is a hit, and its the first time he sees this many people dressed as a character he played for halloween, which is a trip. dustin sends him a pic from a party at his college wearing his now iconic letterman jacket and the bat and steve has genuinely never been as proud of anything he's worked on.

he lands a tiny part with about two lines as 'guy who gets face eaten' in a john carpenter film and john falls in love and makes him kurt russel's younger brother in a lovecraftian story about a a mysterious extraterrestrial force unleashed during a solar eclipse. eddie munson shakes kurt russels hand for about ten of the wildest seconds of his life at the premiere party. he'll score a song for john years later, and john will remember how much of a hyper fanboy he'd been that night and enough time will have passed thats it funny.

steve takes him to dinner with bruce campbell, who likes to call him kid apparently while steve tells him to fuck off, hes 8 years older and a dick, and apparently this is some injoke between them. eddie is dating a dude that has injokes with bruce campbell. eddie barely eats the entire time, just keeps about half a billion questions about every minute detail of evil dead to a minimum and lets the guy breathe. he's pretty sure bruce knows they're together, even though they dont go around announcing it, and he seems cool. he signs an autograph that eddie only feels a little mortified about asking for while steve rolls his eyes.

and steve is like i dont understand why me being a kickass point guard for three years didnt do shit for you but getting sprayed by a fuckton of fake blood in this terrible stephen king adaptation impresses you but ill take it.

eventually eddie composes a couple of songs solo for a scifi that does reasonably well and just leans fulltime into scoring. as a personal favor, john and him chainsmoke their way through a few collaborations on eddie's first and final solo record in the late 90's. it's indisputably his best work, and he tells steve he can die happy now.

they're just an adorable little horror power couple and i live for it

[ceoofsammonroe]

Steamy - Sam Monroe Smut

Summary: Sam has been your best friend since you were kids. When he starts avoiding you and acting strange, you decide to take matters into your own hands and things get steamy…

Warnings: penetrative sex, shower sex, unprotected sex, oral sex (Sam receiving), handjob (Sam receiving), teasing, voyeurism, masturbation (Sam receiving), inexperienced!Sam, Sam finishes too fast, multiple orgasms (Sam receiving), thigh-fucking, nipple play?, slight dacryphilia, subby!Sam, edging, Sam whimpers a lot, maybe a smidge of degradation, Sam is down-horrendous.

Masterlist

Sam rested his forehead against the cool tile of the shower wall as he relentlessly fucked his fist. His eyes were squeezed shut, trying to block out the guilt as his mind raced with perverted thoughts.

It wasn’t his fault, really. He hadn’t intended on showering in your bathroom as an excuse to touch himself. You had just decided to wear one of his old t-shirts today and that…that had sent him over the edge.

Sam had been fighting off these feelings for a long time. If he was honest with himself, they’d always been there. When you were kids, it was easier. He didn’t understand the mechanics of all of it. He just knew he liked being around you more than anyone else, so he spent all the time he could with you. You were best friends, after all. That was normal.

Then, puberty happened. You developed tits and he developed an innate need to see them, touch them, taste them, anything.

It was harder now. You were both in college and still spending all of your time with each other. Every waking moment of Sam’s was spent thinking of you, watching you, imagining all of the ways he wanted to be with you.

It wasn’t that he didn’t want to be your friend — he loved being your friend. You were the only person in the world that ever actually saw him for who he was. It was just that he couldn’t escape these desires that grew stronger and stronger every time you smiled at him or batted your lashes or laughed or…

Yeah, he was fucked.

He knew that he needed to get his feelings for you in check. His biggest fear was doing some dumb shit to lose you. That’s why he’d been trying to create just a little distance lately. He only resorted to that when he felt like he wouldn’t be able to control himself around you. It just so happened that, lately, that was almost all of the time.

When he’d gotten to your place today, he had told himself that he wouldn’t let his attraction get the better of him — that he’d be normal — but, the minute he saw you in his shirt he felt like he could’ve melted into the earth. It was so cute, hugging your frame perfectly and just barely covering those tight ass shorts you had on underneath.

He’d tried to contain himself, he really had. He tried looking anywhere else but at you, tried thinking of every unsexy thing his mind could possibly dream up, but his efforts were all in vain. No matter what he did, his gaze would eventually wander back over to you. His mind would run wild with different scenarios. You in his shirt with nothing underneath. Him bending you over, lifting the material up just enough to take you from behind. Giving you more of his clothes to wear so that everyone knew you were his.

He hadn’t even realized how painfully hard he had gotten or how labored his breathing had become until you asked, “Are you alright, Sammy?”

Fuck, he almost came in his pants from the sweet sound of your voice as you said his nickname that he only allowed you to call him.

He felt his face flame as his eyes widened and he pulled the covers from your bed further over himself to make sure his erection was hidden.

“Y-yeah, fine,” he sputtered, trying to will himself to get a fucking grip.

“Are you sure?” you asked, reaching your hand out to touch his forehead. “You look flushed.”

He had to fight not to moan as your skin came in contact with his, so soft and tender. Your eyebrows were scrunched up in that adorable way they did whenever you were worried about him.

He wanted to see them scrunched up for other reasons, for all the pleasure he knew he could give you if you let him try. He wanted to hear you say his name like a plea of desperation, begging him for more, more, more.

“I think I just need to take a shower,” he muttered, quickly getting up and rushing to the bathroom before you could see any evidence of his arousal.

He paced in the bathroom, fisting at his hair as he tried to calm down. This was getting a bit pathetic. He couldn’t even be in the same fucking room as you without being embarrassingly close to coming untouched.

He stripped down, tossing his clothes to the floor as he stepped into the shower and shut the glass door behind him. He turned the water on to the coldest setting, cringing as he stood beneath it.

C’mon, this needs to work, he thought to himself as he shook from the cold. The icy water caused goosebumps to erupt on his skin, but did nothing to calm the raging hard-on that was still standing proud and aching. He groaned in frustration, hitting his head against the wall as he tried his best to fight off his arousal.

Finally, he gave in and wrapped his fist around his cock. He gave himself a few slow, guilt-ridden strokes as he squeezed his eyes shut. He hissed at the feeling, relief slowly flooding through his abdomen.

He knew that he shouldn’t be doing this. Touching himself to the thought of you was already bad enough, but touching himself to the thought of you while you were in the next room? If only you knew how fucked up he truly was. You’d never look at him again…

He fought the urge to moan at the thought of your hand replacing his, or better yet — your mouth.

“Fuck,” he whispered, biting his bottom lip as he thrusted into his hand.

He needed to get this over with. He needed to handle his problem and get back out there before you started to suspect that something was wrong.

He was desperately chasing his release but, despite how badly he wanted it, his own touch wasn’t getting him there this time.

He needed more.

You had worn his shirt on purpose.

You were tired of him avoiding the situation — avoiding you.

It hadn’t taken you long to figure out why he’d been acting so strange lately. You’d noticed the way his eyes would linger on your form, the way his face would flush when you called his name, the way he’d try to discretely adjust himself in his pants when you’d get too close to him.

You’d always wondered why he’d never had a girlfriend. It wasn’t that girls didn’t desire him. He had just always been oblivious to their advances.

In actuality, you’d realized, he was just too focused on you.

You’d always harbored feelings for Sam. Ever since you were kids. He was your first childhood crush. You’d never told him, though, too scared that he’d tease you relentlessly for it. It wasn’t until lately that you realized those feelings had been reciprocated.

Once you’d made the realization, you’d started trying to push him further and further. You’d hoped that he would snap, finally admitting to you what he’d been feeling.

He never did, though. In fact, he did the opposite. He kept avoiding you, frustrating you to no end.

You huffed out a sigh, looking over at the clock on your bedside table. He’d been in the shower for almost twenty minutes. You gnawed on your lip, contemplating your next move.

Finally, with a newfound determination, you got up from your bed and walked toward your bathroom. You were tired of waiting for him to get the hint. He’d left you no choice. You needed to take matters into your own hands.

You opened the bathroom door, shutting it behind you as you called out, “What’s taking you so long in here, Sammy? I have to shower, too, ya know?”

Sam yelped, startled at your entry. You could only barely make out his figure behind the frosted glass, but it made your heart race nonetheless.

“J-Jesus, don’t you knock?” Sam sputtered, his voice laced with nervous energy.

“It’s my house,” you retorted, crossing your arms as you leaned against the sink.

You heard Sam sigh before he said, “I’ll be out in a minute just…give me a second.”

You began undressing before you could talk yourself out of it. This was a bold move, even for you, but you knew that Sam needed something to be shoved in his face for him to realize what was right in front of him.

“You’ve already been in here for twenty minutes and I have things to do later,” you grumbled, pretending to be inconvenienced. “I’m just coming in.”

“W-what?!” Sam stuttered, his voice nearly jumping up an octave.

You opened the glass door, stepping into the shower as you tried to appear nonchalant. Sam quickly covered himself with his hands, his entire body flushing red as he looked up at the ceiling to avoid looking at your naked frame.

You took this time to unabashedly look him over. His cupped hands only left little to the imagination. You bit your bottom lip, drinking in the sight of him. Arousal immediately began pooling between your thighs as you stepped underneath the water.

You yelped at the temperature, jumping back and adjusting the valve.

“Christ, Sammy, why the hell is it so cold in here?” you asked, despite knowing exactly why he’d been taking a cold shower.

“I-I just like it cold, okay?” Sam retorted, attitude biting with his words.

You turned the knob until the water ran hot, letting the steam fill the confines of the shower. You sighed, contentedly, stepping back under the water.

“Much better,” you breathed, practically moaning as the warm water washed away the tension in your muscles.

As the steam filled the air, Sam’s head was spinning. It was suffocating. He was surrounded by your scent. It took everything in him to keep his eyes glued to the ceiling. Even the glimpses he caught of your body from the corner of his eye were nearly enough to make him fall to his knees.

He had a difficult enough time keeping it together around you when you were fully clothed, how could he be expected to keep his composure when you were naked and wet a foot away from him?

He could feel his still-hard cock pulsing beneath his hands as he tried his best to cover himself. He felt like he’d somehow entered one of his wet dreams. Confusion and arousal fogged his mind as he tried to make sense of what was happening. The two of you had never even seen each other naked, much less showered together.

He refused to let himself believe that this could mean that you wanted him the same way he wanted you. He wouldn’t give himself that kind of false hope. He could only pray that he’d be able to get through this without making a complete fool out of himself.

You reached for the shampoo, lathering it into your hair. You smirked when you heard Sam breathe in a little too deeply. Glancing back at him, he still had his head facing toward the ceiling.

“You don’t have to break your neck trying not to look at me,” you laughed, rinsing the shampoo from your hair. “It’s not like you’ve never seen tits before.”

“I’ve never seen yours…” Sam mumbled, quietly, a new blush rising to his cheeks.

“Mine are just like any others,” you shrugged, brushing your conditioner through your hair with your fingers.

Sam had to bite his tongue to keep from responding that nobody could be like you. He was fighting so hard to keep his gaze averted but now you were practically inviting him to look at you. Even on his strongest day, there was no chance he could pass up the opportunity. He’d just look once, he told himself. Just enough of a glance to embed the image into his brain for when he jacked himself off to the thought of you.

He took a deep breath before stealing a quick look over at you. He involuntarily squeezed his dick, trying not to come on the spot. None of his fantasies could’ve prepared him for the way you’d look standing naked in front of him, water dripping from your body.

He forced himself to look up at your face instead of your tits — your goddamned perfect tits — but that didn’t help his situation in the slightest. Not when you were smirking at him like you were privy to some secret that he was not. Or when you were batting your lashes, sending water drops down your cheeks. Then you bit your lip and Jesus fucking Christ he felt every cell in his body burn at the sight.

You couldn’t help but giggle at the way his eyes fought between looking at your face and looking at your chest. You could sense the stress he was putting himself through, and almost felt bad for what you were doing. You weren’t going to stop, though. Not when you finally had him right where you wanted him.

You moved to grab the bottle of soap, intentionally letting it fall from your grasp. Out of instinct, Sam reached out to catch it. You gasped quietly at the sight of his erection springing forward into view.

He was big. Bigger than you’d expected. He was hard and leaking, his tip red and aching. He followed your gaze down, his eyes widening as he realized what you were looking at. He quickly handed you the bottle of soap back, moving to cover himself again.

“You know,” you started, smirking as you poured the soap into your hand, “if you need to take care of that, you can. I don’t mind.”

“W-what?” Sam coughed, his face a deep shade of red. “No! No way.”

“It’s natural, Sammy,” you shrugged. “I do it all the time. Besides, it looks real painful. I won’t watch if that’s what you’re worried about.”

Sam wanted the earth to swallow him whole in that moment. He didn’t think his skin could burn any hotter than it was right then. You were teasing him, torturing him.

He didn’t know which part was worse — the way you said his name, the mental image of you touching yourself, or the attention you had paid to his predicament. His body felt like it was going to erupt into flames at any given moment.

You had to know. You had to. There was no way that all of this was just some random coincidence. The two of you had never breached that line of friendship and now, here you were, telling him to touch himself in front of you.

He couldn’t do that. There would be no coming back from that. There would be no way that he could recover. He’d come the minute he touched his dick if your eyes were on him, and how would he explain that?

However, you had said you wouldn’t watch…and he did really really need the relief…

Sam bit his bottom lip, breathing heavily as he contemplated his options. He knew that he shouldn’t, but the offer was so tempting…

“You promise you won’t watch?”

Your smirk grew as Sam gave in to his desires, just like you knew he would. You crossed your heart with your finger and Sam squeezed his eyes shut as his gaze was unintentionally brought back down to your chest.

Giggling, you turned back around to face the other side of the shower. You didn’t miss the way Sam’s eyes travelled down to your ass as you did. You began lathering the soap into your skin as you heard the wet sounds of his fist stroking his dick over the hum of the shower.

You bit your lip, focusing on the way he let little breaths escape him. You could imagine how hard he was trying to refrain from making any other noises. You wanted to hear him, wanted to know exactly how he was feeling.

Curiosity and the need to push him further getting the better of you, you asked, “Are you always this quiet when you jack off?”

He sucked in a breath and sputtered, “Jesus, fuck, you…you can’t talk to me right now.”

You stifled a giggle, feigning innocence as you said, “Why not, Sammy?”

“Don’t say my name,” he practically pleaded, his voice barely above a whisper.

“I thought it would help,” you laughed, done beating around the bush. “Don’t you usually imagine me saying your name when you do this?”

You turned back around to face him, cocking your head to the side. His eyes widened and his hand stopped moving as his mouth opened and closed repeatedly.

Your mouth practically watered at the sight of him, chest flushed and heaving, his fist squeezed tightly around his erection.

“W-what…I don’t…I haven’t…” Sam stuttered, trying to come up with some kind of denial to your statement.

“Oh, come on,” you huffed, rolling your eyes playfully. “I’m not oblivious and you aren’t exactly subtle.”

Sam’s face turned an even deeper shade of red as he squeezed his eyes shut.

“Relax, Sammy, it’s okay,” you said, beginning to slowly lather the soap into your skin. “Keep going.”

“What?” He gulped, eyes shooting open as they focused on the way your hands moved across your body in an agonizingly tempting motion.

“Keep going, Sammy,” you repeated, not taking your eyes off of him.

He released a shuddered breath, licking his lips as his eyes locked back on yours. Slowly, he began to move his fist again.

His jaw fell slack as his gaze followed the motion of your hands, teasing him as you trailed suds across your chest. His hand moved faster, his eyelids fluttering as a strained noise sounded from his throat.

“Is this what you think about, Sammy?” You taunted, moving your hands lower down your stomach.

Sam gasped, nodding his head as he muttered, “Uh-huh.”

His chest heaved with heavy breaths, his hips thrusting into his fist. His hooded eyes were dark with desire as they traveled over your body. His movements became sloppy, his brows knitting together.

You could tell he was close, soft sounds involuntarily escaping his lips. His muscles were visibly tensing as his breaths started to come out in short spurts.

You’d had enough of being a bystander. Every nerve in your body was alight with desire and you wanted to close the distance between you two. You were done playing this game. If he was going to come, you wanted it to be by your hands.

Sam let out an involuntary whine of protest as you grabbed his wrist and pulled his hand away from himself. His eyes widened as you moved him until his back was pressed against the cold shower wall.

“W-what are you…what’s happening…oh, fuck.”

Sam’s questions were silenced the minute you pressed yourself against him. He gasped, clenching his fists by his side, seemingly using all of his restraint to keep from touching you.

He looked down at you, his gaze pleading and questioning as he asked, “What is this?”

“I was tired of waiting for you to make the first move,” you shrugged, grabbing his face.

His brows furrowed, confusion etched into his features. His mouth opened and closed, as if trying to form the words he wanted to say.

“Waiting for…what do you mean?”

“God, you’re so oblivious,” you mumbled, pulling his face down to yours and pressing your lips against his.

He immediately buckled, leaning into the kiss. He couldn’t help but groan into your mouth, a sound that betrayed the intensity of his arousal. The pressure building in his groin grew, his need growing at an unbearable pace. He arched his hips forward, desperate for contact. You pulled back, biting your lip as you peered up at him.

Sam held his breath, the moment teetering on the edge of ecstasy. His heart hammered so loud that it threatened to drown out the sound of the shower. His eyes were dizzy and unfocused as he looked down at you. This was both the most exhilarating and most terrifying moment of his life. The anticipation was agonizing, maddening.

You glanced down at his pouted lips, as if daring him to make a move. His tongue darted out, flicking across them as his gaze moved between your eyes and your mouth.

Finally, after working up the courage, he leaned forward. You grinned as you tilted your head back, keeping your lips just out of reach. He furrowed his eyebrows, releasing a shaky breath before trying again. You let his lips barely brush against yours before you dodged him again, smirking at the teasing game you were playing with him.

He looked at you with pleading eyes, desperation etched into his features, as a needy whine sounded in his throat. He whispered your name, fists tightening as every muscle in his body tensed with longing.

“Please,” he whispered, his jaw clenching with the effort to keep his composure.

With that one word, he completely crumbled your resolve. His eyes were dark and glassy with desire and unshed tears and you were prepared to give him anything he asked for.

You tangled your fingers in his wet hair, pulling him into a heated kiss. His lips immediately parted, devouring your own. He kissed you like he was starved, like you were his only source of oxygen after he’d been suffocating with need.

There was still a hesitancy in his actions, a part of him that was restraining himself. Whether it was out of fear or lack of knowledge, you didn’t hesitate to guide him.

Your fingertips trailed down his arms, causing him to shiver. You grabbed his hands and placed them on your hips. He moaned into your mouth, his touch instantly beginning to wander.

The urgency in his kiss increased, his hands roaming your back, your sides, your legs. Years of built up tension came bubbling to the surface as you both began to drown in each other.

Sam’s voice was low and husky, barely coherent against your lips as he whispered, “Don’t stop.”

The pressure between his legs was a stinging reminder of his desperation. The need within him was leaking with each touch, each kiss. He reveled in the control you wielded over him. Sam’s mind was lost in a sea of lust. This was a moment he’d dreamed about for years. The thought of it was almost too much, the entire situation overwhelming.

You guided his hands up to your chest and Sam wasted no time in palming your tits. He squeezed gently, kissing you with blazing fervor. When his thumbs experimentally swiped across your nipples, you let out a sigh of pleasure against his lips.

Sam’s brain short-circuited the minute he heard your reaction. His hips surged forward, pushing his aching erection between your clenched thighs. He had been so worked up and the pressure provided just the right amount of friction. He gasped, letting out a strangled moan as he clutched onto you. His eyes rolled back as an orgasm ripped through him, instinctively continuing to thrust between the plush skin of your thighs.

Sam panted, slowly opening his eyes again as he came down from the high. His entire body flushed at the revelation of what had just occurred. He took in your amused expression, groaning in embarrassment as he buried his face into your neck.

You stifled a giggle, gently rubbing his back as you whispered, “It’s okay, Sammy. It happens.”

He whimpered against your skin, wrapping his arms around you. He was torn between wishing he could disappear, never having to face you again, and wanting to stay in this moment forever.

“Besides,” you smirked, leaning down to pepper gentle kisses across his shoulder, “I’m not finished with you yet.”

Sam inhaled, sharply, his breath hot against your neck. His body instantly responded, his arousal already stirring again at the prospect alone.

You grabbed his face, lifting his head back up to meet his gaze. His cheeks were still tinged pink, bringing out the bright blue of his dilated eyes.

You traced his swollen lips with your thumb and asked, “Do you think you can do it again for me?”

“Mhm,” he responded, nodding eagerly. “I’ll do anything for you.”

You grinned, your lips brushing against his as you whispered, “Promise?”

He pulled you into him, closing the gap between you so that you couldn’t pull away again. He kissed you passionately, groaning as you bit down on his bottom lip.

“Promise,” he mumbled into the kiss, “anything you want.”

You reached up to grab his chin, tilting it to the side as you slowly kissed down his neck. His eyes fluttered shut, his body quivering at the tender attention. He cradled your head with a trembling hand, urging you on as your lips made their way across his skin.

Sam whimpered when you nipped at his pulse point, the hand in your hair tightening as you gently sucked a dark mark into the pale skin. You kissed across his chest, letting your hands run down his sides. He gasped as your teeth grazed over one of his nipples.

Your lips continued their descent down his body as you slowly sank to your knees in front of him. Sam let out a shaky breath, whispering your name as his legs nearly gave out.

You blinked up at him, water drops coating your lashes, as you rubbed your hands up and down his thighs.

“You’ll do anything I want?” you asked, kissing across his hips.

“Uh-huh,” he rasped, licking his lips as he nodded his head. “Anything you want. I swear it.”

Your mouth watered as you sat eye-level with his dick that was steadily twitching back to life. He gasped as you took him into your hand, his fists clenching tightly by his sides. You slowly began to stroke him, watching as he bit his lip to try and hold back the sounds threatening to spill from his lips.

“Then I want to hear how good it feels, Sammy,” you told him, pressing a teasing kiss to the tip.

“Shit,” he cursed, hardening again in your grip.

Your tongue traced a line up his shaft, slowly circling it around the head of his dick before taking him entirely into your mouth.

“Oh, fuck,” he moaned, panting as he gripped the shower wall for support. “That’s…a-ah…that’s really good.”

The sight of you was overwhelming. He had only ever pictured you this way in his dirtiest dreams. You, on your knees with your lips wrapped around his cock, gazing up at him like the prettiest thing he’d ever seen.

“Fuck, you’re perfect,” he breathed, peering down at you through hooded lids. “Your mouth feels so fucking good.”

You watched his chest heave as you worked him, using your hand to cover what your mouth couldn’t fit. His fist was still tangled in your hair, but he didn’t dare attempt to control your movements.

Sam’s eyes rolled back as he felt himself hit the back of your throat, the sensation causing his hips to stutter. You swallowed around him and his entire body threatened to crumble. Strings of lewd moans and whimpers escaped his lips as his back arched off of the wall.

“Oh, god,” he panted, throwing his head back against the shower wall, “I’m…fuck…I’m gonna…”

You pulled off of him and he let out a whine, thrusting to desperately chase your lips. You grabbed his hips, holding them still as you rose back up to your feet.

“Why’d you stop?” Sam pouted, scrunching his eyebrows together in desperation. “I was so close.”

Your hands roamed his chest, feeling the pounding of his heart beneath it, as you looked up at him with a teasing glint in your eyes.

“I didn’t think you’d want to stop before getting to be inside of me, but if you’d rather settle for my hands then I can keep going,” you taunted, cocking your head to the side.

“No,” he croaked out, his voice breaking off into a desperate moan at the mere thought of that privilege. “I wanna be inside you. Please, let me be inside of you.”

He clutched at you, pulling you into him as he crashed his mouth against yours. You immediately responded to the kiss, parting your lips and tasting his tongue with your own.

Without breaking the kiss, you pulled him forward and switched your positions so that your back was now pressed against the shower wall.

You reached down, grabbing his dick and stroking it as you lined it up with your entrance. He gasped, breaking apart to rest his forehead against yours. He sucked his bottom lip into his mouth as he looked down between your bodies, watching you tease them finally joining together.

“Please, don’t keep teasing me,” he begged, his voice hoarse with need. “I can’t take it.”

You wrapped a leg around his waist and Sam held his breath, his mouth falling open as you guided his hips to slowly sheath into you. As his length filled you, stretching you out with a delicious burn, you couldn’t help but let out a breathy moan.

Once he was buried to the hilt, his hips flesh against your own, he finally released his breath in a strangled whimper.

“You’re so tight, fuck,” he breathed, unable to take his eyes away from the sight of you wrapped around him.

“Fuck me, Sammy,” you whispered, watching as his gaze snapped up to meet yours.

His breath hitched as he nodded, his body trembling with nervous anticipation. He pulled back, almost completely out of you, before pushing back in with a slow, experimental thrust.

You both gasped at the feeling, moaning into the shared air between your mouths. He repeated the motion again, familiarizing himself with the way your body practically pulled him in.

His thrusts got faster as his lips found yours again in a heated kiss. You clutched onto his shoulders for support, feeling every nerve in your body ignite in flames of pleasure.

“You feel so good,” you mumbled, arching into him. “Such a perfect fit.”

Sam groaned against your lips, his hips picking up the pace. He pulled back to look at you, his eyes dark with desire.

“I’ve wanted this for so long,” he confessed, the dam of his emotions suddenly breaking as he fucked into you. “I-I dreamed about you, every day. You were all…ah…I ever wanted.”

“I know, Sammy, I know,” you panted, reaching up to kiss him again. “I’ve always felt the same way, you were just too blind to notice.”

He whimpered at the revelation, his thrusts becoming more urgent. He grabbed your waist, using it as leverage as his hips snapped up into yours.

“Fuck,” he whined, breathing out your name. “I-I’m getting close. I’m not gonna be able to last.”

“I need you to hold on just a little longer, Sammy,” you told him, earning a desperate whimper as his eyes grew glassy again.

You grabbed one of his hands, guiding his thumb to your clit. You moved it in slow circles, showing him how to touch you. He picked up the action quickly, moving his fingers on their own accord.

You moaned at the added stimulation, feeling Sam’s hips stutter as you squeezed around him. Ragged breaths wracked through him as he tried desperately to hold on for you.

“Wanna hear you, Sammy,” you prompted.

A single tear drop fell down his cheek from the sheer effort of keeping his climax at bay as he began to mindlessly ramble.

“You feel so good. Squeezin’ around me all tight and warm. Could just stay buried in you forever. Never wanna stop. I’ll do anything to satisfy you. Anything you want. I’ll get on my hands and knees if you ask me to. Just wanna make you happy. Just wanna keep feelin’ you like this.”

He kissed down your neck, needing to occupy his mouth. He buried his face against your chest, gasping and whimpering as his movements chased the high he desperately craved.

“No one else gets to have me like this,” you promised, feeling that familiar knot of pleasure tightening in the pit of your stomach. Each stroke of his thumb against your clit, paired with the tip of his dick repeatedly brushing that spot inside of you, pushed you closer and closer to the edge. “You’re the only one I want, Sammy. The only one who can make me feel this way.”

He let out a strained cry against your skin, his fingers gripping the plush skin of your waist tighter.

“Please, I need to come,” he begged, the desperation making his voice raw. “I need it, baby, please.”

The sweet sounds of his pleading was the final thread that unraveled the knot.

“Come for me, Sammy,” you breathed.

You felt the white hot pleasure course through your veins as you tightened around him, feeling your climax wash over you in a tidal wave.

He came with a cry of your name, clutching onto you as he continued to thrust into you. His vision seemed to black out as he finally let go, giving you everything.

The world around you seemed to fade as you both came down from the mutual high. Sam’s body relaxed into yours, his hands still trembling as you both tried to catch your breath. You settled into a blissful haze, engulfed by the warmth of the shower.

You held him close to you, running your fingers soothingly through his hair as you smiled lazily, “You done avoiding me now?”

“Yeah,” he whispered, grinning sheepishly. He nuzzled into your neck, wrapping his arms tighter around you. “Never gonna avoid you again.”

“Good,” you responded, “it would be a dick move to avoid your girlfriend.”

“Girlfriend?” Sam asked, his head snapping up as he looked at you with wide, hopeful eyes.

“Well, yeah,” you grinned, biting your lip. “Unless you’d rather this just be a one time thing.”

“No!” Sam interjected, quickly, shaking his head. “I want this to be an all the time thing. Every day. Multiple times a day, if possible.”

You rolled your eyes, giggling as you playfully shoved him. He laughed, his entire face lighting up with joy and relief as he hugged you to him.

“You know, it was kind of a creeper move to barge in on me in the shower,” he joked, looking down at you with an amused glint in his eyes.

“Hey, you were the one jacking off to me in my own house!” you argued, laughing as you poked his chest.

He grabbed your hand, bringing it up to his lips to kiss your knuckles before grabbing your face and sweetly kissing your lips.

He hummed softly and whispered, “I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of that.”

You beamed up at him, feeling your heart flutter in his embrace. You used up the remaining hot water to actually shower off, tending to each other as you did. You couldn’t shake the feeling that this was how it was always meant to be.

Maybe it’s true what they say. Everything happens for a reason.

[wendichester]

°‧⋆.🐋*:･ swimming lesson,

summary. the motel has a pool!

pairing. dean winchester x reader

wordcount. 708.

The motel is nothing special—peeling wallpaper, creaky beds, the faint smell of mildew—but it's got something the others never do: a pool. Of course, it's small and probably questionable on hygiene, but it's there.

Dean notices it immediately, tucked in the back, lit by a dim overhead lamp. The water ripples gently, reflecting the neon motel sign. He doesn't say much when he sees it, but later, after burgers and beers, he grabs a towel, shoots you a look, and declares, "I'm hitting the pool."

You glance up from your laptop, surprised. “The pool? Since when do you care about swimming?”

He shrugs, that familiar cocky grin tugging at his lips. “Since now. You coming, or are you just gonna sit there like a nerd?”

You hesitate, but the way he looks at you, all challenge and mischief, makes it impossible to say no. "Fine," you grumble, grabbing your own towel. "But only because I'm bored."

When you get to the pool, Dean wastes no time. He tosses his towel onto a lounge chair, pulling off his flannel and T-shirt in one smooth motion. You try not to look—try really hard—but the man's built like a Greek god, all broad shoulders and taut muscle.

"You coming, or you just here for the view?" Dean's already in the water, hair damp while a few strands fall into his eyes, and the smirk he gives you is downright infuriating. "Come, on. It's not even cold."

You cross your arms, staying firmly rooted to the edge. "I'm good right here."

Dean raises an eyebrow. "Seriously? You scared of water or something?"

You glance away, suddenly self-conscious. "I just... I don't know how to swim, alright?"

Dean stops mid-float, his head whipping toward you. "Wait, what?" He's standing now, water dripping from his hair as he stares at you like you've just admitted to never eating pie. "How the hell do you not know how to swim? Do you know how basic that is?"

You scowl, crossing your arms. "Yeah, well, at least I don't have to travel by car everywhere because I'm too afraid to fly!"

Dean scoffs, muttering under his breath, "Damn it, Sammy." He looks back at you, rolling his eyes. "That's different. Planes crash!"

"And people drown!" you fire back.

Dean exhales sharply, running a hand through his wet hair. “Fine, fine. But you’re learning right now. No way I’m letting you live like this.”

“Dean—”

“Hey,” he cuts you off, his tone softer now. “Just trust me on this. I’m not letting you drown. Not on my watch, sweetheart.”

You hesitate, but the sincerity in his eyes is hard to argue with. With a sigh, you strip down to your underwear, the closest thing you have to a swimsuit. Dean whistles low, his grin widening as you inch toward the water.

You glare at him for a second longer before sighing again. "This is such a bad idea."

"Nah," he says, already wading toward you. "Worst case scenario, I can totally give you mouth-to-mouth."

You snort as you're too focused on lowering yourself into the shallow end, water lapping at your waist. "You're terrible."

He grins as he moves closer. “Now, first lesson: floating.”

You groan, whining. “I'm so drowning.”

“Nah,” he says, his hands finding your waist as he guides you gently into the water. “Relax. I’ve got you.”

It takes a few tries, but soon you’re floating, his hands steady beneath your back. He’s surprisingly patient, his voice calm as he talks you through it.

“There you go,” he says, pride evident in his tone. “You’re a natural.”

You laugh, still nervous but feeling a little more confident. “A natural at not sinking?”

“Hey, it’s a start.”

For the next hour, he teaches you the basics—floating, kicking, keeping your head above water. The whole time, he’s close, his hands never far from yours, his touch firm but reassuring.

By the end of the night, you’re sitting on the edge of the pool, your legs dangling in the water. Dean floats lazily in the deep end, his arms resting on the edge as he watches you.

“Not bad, huh?” he says, smirking.

You roll your eyes, but there’s a soft smile on your face. “Not bad.”

taglist ⋆.˚ ★— @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing

[j2archives]

What a shame

── - ˚.⋆ 𝜗𝜚˚.⋆ - pairing sam winchester x fem!hunter!reader

summary you joined the winchester boys a few months back and got close to the younger one, sam. after sam mentioned a run in with a hunter gordon, your heart sank. gordon was your ex, and you knew how crazy he got. but sam reassured you it was okay, he always did. now, there was a case in new york and it turned out your ex was in the same town hunting vamps. when gordon is turned, sam and dean go out to hunt him while you stay at the motel. when they come back, and dean starts describing how sam handled a super-charged vamp gordon — you started to think about about the image. your crush on sam didn’t help either.

content warnings based on 3x07, mentions of blood, gordon (he’s a tw), sam has a crush on reader, dirty thoughts, way too empathic sam, unprotected p!v, shower sex, oral sex (female receiving), dirty talk, praise, pet names, sam’s oral fixation, mentions of dean, fingering, sweet sammy <3, reader gets the best head of her life and doesn’t know what to think, pure filth (trust), slight breeding if you squint really hard, if you squint it’s hinted that sam isn’t average

notes 3.7k words and the long awaited fic!! proofread, enjoy <3

sam knew you and gordon went way back. it wasn’t any of his business, but that didn’t mean he’d shut you out when you wanted to vent. he’s had a few run-ins with gordon himself. Mainly when gordon was trying to kill him — which was pretty much every single one. so he got an idea from that how much of a dick he was.

you’d been hunting with the Winchester boys for a few months now. running into them at some bar in chicago. dean took an interest in you and introduced you to sam. you’d heard of him, almost everyone has. there was no way that this guy is the antichrist and is supposed to doom the world? not with those puppy-dog eyes.

he was nervous meeting you, and you couldn’t blame him. dean told you how they never really ran into other hunters, and you were sure sam had bad experiences in the past. so you were cautious, not wanting to make him uncomfortable in anyway. he was shocked you knew his name, but once again, there was the whole demon thing. word travels fast, especially when it got out that sam was immune to the croatian virus, that was crafted by satan himself. but, you didn’t let that control your view of him, he was much more than that.

dean noticed how close you and sam got, he teased his brother relentlessly for his bright cheeks. sam always rolled his eyes, but deep down he knew his brother was right. he was utterly down bad for you. and he didn’t think you knew it.

it was in indiana when you last saw gordon again, on top of the roof with a sniper trying to take sam and a victim out. dean was the one who tackled gordon, you rushed inside to alert sam so he could get the girl out of there. he noticed how quiet you were afterwards when gordon was arrested and sentenced. He had no idea how much guilt you felt.

when you finally explained to the brothers what happened, sam comforted you afterwards. assuring you that it was okay, and he also apologized for how he fought gordon. you didn’t understand why he was, but it was something he did, he always did. So you thanked him, every time. wrapping your arms around him in a warm embrace.

You were tracking a vamp currently in Albany, New york. it turned out a girl named lucy was turned, she had no idea what had happened to her. she didn’t know what she became overnight, she didn’t know that she killed people. your heart weighed heavy for her, and judging by sam — who left the room a few minutes ago, it did for him too. someone had to kill her before she’d lose control again. you stayed with sam in the kitchen, trying your best to comfort him while dean took care of the situation.

“you did what you could sam. at least she had answers.” he didn’t look you in the eyes, averting his gaze to the floor. his head tilted up at your voice, a sigh leaving him. he was grateful you were here with him, but he also didn’t want you to feel worse when he knew you felt a similar feeling as well. “i know.”

there was a lot on the man’s mind right now. you couldn’t even begin on how fucking horrible you felt seeing him like this. and now that gordon was back in town, he’d already shot a few bullets at the winchester. sam didn’t need anymore on his plate, and your stupid, son-of-a-bitch ex had to add more.

dean was going to hell. selling his soul to bring sam back had good intentions, but he still wouldn’t confront what was going on. he showed so little care about himself, and all his younger brother’s been doing is try to save him. dean’s been saving sam for years, since he was six months old — since the house fire. he hadn’t found an answer yet and the trail was getting colder every day. his brother said he did it because he couldn’t live without sam, but now his baby brother would have to live without him. and it pained him in ways you couldn’t imagine. just watching him made your heart ache. you felt so much for sam, and the main thing was empathy.

when dean found out gordon had turned, it changed things. he’d be more skilled, more reckless. he became the one thing he hated most, and now, he didn’t have anything left to care. his main motive has been to kill sam winchester. and now, he was invincible at night. he fed. you and sam found the bodies. the stakes were higher, sam was in danger. and fuck, it worried you. so damn much.

after luring sam and dean out, sam urged for you to stay home — not wanting you in harms way. despite every instinct telling you to go after the brothers, you respected sam’s decision. it tore you apart, that you didn’t know what was happening. you didn’t know if they were okay, if gordon somehow escaped, if sam was hurt, if he was turned. the different scenarios raced through your mind and it only served to make you panic, to worry you even more.

you stayed in the same place you had when they left. when the door opened, it revealed sam and dean. their clothes still bloody. you stood up instantly noticing the look on his face, nearly sprinting towards him. sam was caught off guard by your sudden rush, but he understood.

gordon was dead. and the way dean described it, it was pretty gruesome. sam fought back, wrapping barbed wire around his neck. he managed to over power gordon, slicing his head off within minutes. it explained the blood on his flannel.

dean’s hand grasped the door handle, “I’ll be back in a few, gonna look around to see if we missed anything or anyone.” before you or sam could say anything, the doorknob twisted and dean made his exit.

if you didn’t know any better, you’d say dean was trying to get you alone with his younger brother.

after a few moments of silence, he spoke up first — “I should probably go wash up,” his head tilted slightly towards the bathroom. you nodded, but before he went, he added on.

“about gordon…-“

“it was you or him, sam.”

his eyes widened, confusion painting his features. Sam would’ve assumed you’d be in grieving, mourning, that you might even blame him a bit but no. You replied with: ‘it was you or him, sam.’ to say he was shocked at that was an understatement. he was speechless. having no idea what to say. he just killed his crush’s ex boyfriend. and now you were looking at him with this look. he had a pretty good idea what that look meant, but he didn’t say anything about it. unsure if that’s what you really meant.

sam fumbled for words, “I- wow.” a chuckle left him. one of disbelief, nerves, and for some goddamn reason, his cheeks flushed a pretty pink like a schoolgirl.

“what?” now you’re the one who’s confused. “i thought you’d slap me or something. not defend me…?” the winchester was a damn idiot.

he really didn’t see it, did he?

ever since you met sam outside of the chicago bar, you had your eyes on him. hell, that practically told dean he had no chance. how you felt for sam went way beyond just close friends. you’d seen what it did to him when he talked about jessica. how much he denied or didn’t believe someone actually gave a fuck. now he was losing his brother? no one deserved that, especially not him.

all sam did was worry and care for everyone else. the one time you got your period, he let dean take a solo hunt because he wanted to make sure you were okay. he got you a damn heating pad, practically everything from the vending machine, and even sat through horrible rom-coms with you to try and make you feel better. when dean did something reckless, he’d talk his brother’s ear off about being more careful even though dean sometimes didn’t pay that much attention. he still tried. he still tried to stay positive even when a hunt went off the rails, even when he was pissed at something. he didn’t want to take it out on anyone and make the problem worse, so he tried to calm down.

he really didn’t have a clue.

“i’ll defend you when i want to, sam.” a smile curved up on his lips, shaking his head. “yes ma’am.”

the pet name he used made your cheeks flush, and his own to grow a deeper shade. for a moment you both stood there, sam avoided your eyes. but you kept your gaze trained on him, he was flustered now. when he finally met your gaze, his lips parted slightly.

“I should probably clean up,” another pause. “you can shower with me- I mean, shower before me!” your eyebrows raised, your lips curving up into a teasing grin. “you wanna see me naked, winchester?” he was a mess now, stuttering out anything he could to explain what he meant. despite the implication (that he didn’t mean to blurt out) being so obvious.

“i didn’t mean to blurt that out. it’s not like i’d mind- i don’t want to make you uncomfortable though, at all. Since a lot happened earli-“ sam’s words were muffled by your lips pressed against his. it took him a second, eyes fluttering shut as he melted into you. He kissed you. and the way his lips moved back against yours, you knew that was it— every time he chased your lips, your legs got weaker.

with a herculean effort, he pulled away. sam’s breaths spurred into pants, he was lost for words. you could barely suppress your nerves, the way he was looking at you. the way he kissed you so fierce, kissed you like he loved you too. it was the final straw.

he lightly stroked the side of your arms, it was an intimate gesture even though his touch was so feather-light. it took him a moment, his eyes flickering over your face then darting back to your lips. Still, sam’s eyes couldn’t shake yours; hunger swirling in the depths.

he sucked in a sharp shaky breath, “are you sure?”

—

You urged sam’s back flat against the shower wall, your tongue lapping at his. he was pliant for you as you did, his breath hitching whenever he felt your hands wander. your palms were seeking and appreciating. trying to figure out what made him tick. one of his hands steadied on your hip, while the other tangled in your damp-tousled hair. trying to pull you impossibly closer. there was only one word that could make it through your nerves: he was so damn beautiful. You uttered this to him without thinking, lost in a frenzy.

when you finally pulled away, you kept back open-mouthed breaths. he took you in, admiring how fucking wrecked you looked. he was sure he looked the same, but god. he did that to you. he kissed your lips swollen.

without a second thought, sam took you in his arms. spinning you around for your back to hit the shower wall, knocking the air from your chest once more. he ran his tongue across his lips, his eyes raking down your figure that he now had pinned beneath him. “fuck,” his chin dipped stealing a chaste kiss to your lips before kissing his way down to your jaw.

he nipped and sucked at the skin of your neck, earning soft gasps from your throat. he already found your sweet spots, but he avoided them. biting around them before sealing the forming mark with a kiss. as he went, he pressed a burning, open-mouthed kiss to your quivering pulse. The sound his lips made as they kissed down your body was hot and sloppy in all ways that made your thighs tremble. it would’ve destroyed anyone with how he laved his tongue in a ridiculously passionate drag, and it crushed you in ways you couldn’t explain.

now, he kneeled before you. fingers splaying out on your womb as his breath caressed your sex, sam urged your thighs apart with his hands. the space between your legs ached so desperate it was sore. he was so close to where you wanted, it made you squirm.

“i want this to be good for you, baby. i wanna do this good for you…” his nails scraped against your hips and ass, holding you still. before you could even ask, he braced two hands on your thighs and placed them over his shoulder. he cursed at the sight, you were so fucking wet and it wasn’t from the shower. you let out a small whine at the exposure, the way he was looking up at you. as if he had been starving and you were the last item in the fridge.

sam sighed at the sight, “is this for me? don’t get shy on me, sweetheart. tell me.” he was in awe. he couldn’t believe it.

“Yeah, i love it when you sound like that— ah.” his cheeks returned to its pink tint in full force. you could feel his breath fanning deliciously over your folds, a slight smirk curved up on his lips as pride flowed through his veins. this whole time you were soaked, holy shit.

he pushed your thighs apart wider, making room for him. he spread your pussy open with his thumbs, “even pretty down here, honey.” he praised. you kept your gaze on him the whole time— or at least tried to. his touch was electric, sending shockwaves through you every second. he was mapping out every inch of skin he could. his middle finger slid through your folds, collecting your arousal on the pad of his finger.

“jesus, sam.” you watched as he brought his fingers up to his lips, swirling his tongue around his digit. fuck, watching him taste you… the sight was painfully hot. sam groaned, “so fucking sweet, baby.” the way he watched you made you feel like you were being devoured whole. he could feel his cock throb but he ignored it, focusing on you.

the moment sam’s mouth was against your sobbing cunt, you broke apart.

his lips wrapped around your clit, alternating between flicking and sucking at the bud. he drowned in your body— in your taste, your cries, your reactions. it boosts his ego, even if he won’t say it out loud. you tangled your digits in his locks, tugging him closer. sam moans into your pussy, lifting his finger up to tease your entrance.

he’s so, so loud. not like you were doing any better. two thick fingers press against your entrance before he finally easing them in. he pulls away for a brief moment, relishing in how tight you felt just on his fingers.

“so good, honey. you’re doing so good. you’re perfect f’ me, y’know that?” his fingers are still lazily scissoring inside of you, but now his mouth is latched onto you again. this time, his tongue’s darting at your entrance where his fingers are nestled. you let out a broken sob, you were helpless. it was so easy for him to pin you down. his thumb moved to your clit next. pressing down on the pearl and rubbing it in tight circles.

your hips bucked against his hands, he was moaning messily in your cunt now. your fingers gripping his hair so tight as you braced yourself. you were so close, you knew it, and so did sam. he had already learned your weakest spots, finding your deepest place that your own fingers couldn’t reach. he had memorized every inch of you, and he was still eager to learn more.

“S-Sam…” your voice trembled, “i know, i can feel you, sweetheart. just let go, ‘s okay… i’ve got you baby, jus’ like that.” just hearing his words made you cry out. sam quickly moved a hand up to your waist, making sure you didn’t fall. watching the pleasure take over your features. he did that to you, he reduced one of the most badass hunters to a needy, begging mess all for him.

once your breathing started to steady, sam kissed his way back up to your face. pressing a soft kiss to your jaw, then your cheek, and lastly your lips.

“how’d that feel?” was he being serious right now? this man. “how the fuck are you so good at that?”

sam chuckled at your breathless response, a sly grin flowing on his lips. “naturally born with it.” you rolled your eyes, chasing his lips again. it was a quick peck at first but quickly turned heated again.

your fingers trailed down, wrapping around his length. he moaned into your mouth, parting from you momentarily to look at where you connected. “fuck,” sam knew what you were chasing after, his forehead pressed against yours as he watched every movement you made, guiding him closer and closer to your slit.

a shaky moan left you when he pressed closer to you, his tip brushed against your clit just once. he looked up at you, observing your reaction. “do you want me to?” god, the bastard knew that you did. You were already soaked again, coating his shaft with your juices. with the strength you had, you moved just enough for him to catch on your entrance. making his breath hitch. “sam, please.”

when he pushed into you, you felt the air get shoved out of your lungs like it had for the past half-hour. the stretch burned just a bit as he worked himself inside of you but feeling the warmth spread through you made you let out a moan. sam wasn’t doing any better. soft, guttural groans and moans escaped him.

“shit, baby..” he panted, his face was buried in your neck as he stilled. giving you a moment to adjust. the feel of your velvety walls squeezing around him fueled his pleasure. you could feel every inch of each other, he was reaching places inside of you that you hadn’t even dreamed of.

your fingernails dug into the skin of his back. “m-move, fuck — please.” your broken plea snapped sam out of his daze.

he pulled out, just the tip left in before he slammed back into you. he wasn’t rough but he wasn’t soft either, he was the fucking godsend of both. hitting your g-spot every single thrust he gave, drawing out pornographic cries and broken sobs.

you didn’t even think sam was supposed to be this deep. the room was so damn hot.

“you’re so . . . thrust . . . fucking . . . thrust . . . tight, fuck!” you were already so close, he was too. being connected like this, feeling each other like this was simply too much. the pleasure was overwhelming. he couldn’t get enough of you, of how well you felt around him, how good you were for him. he wanted to give you the world. fuck…and how you responded to him.

sam’s fingers snuck down to rub at your clit, his other hand still holding your hip. he pressed and circled your bundle, earning your pretty noises. the sounds that filled the bathroom were obscene. the way he had you, that he got to have you made him go harder. faster even. “sam, baby.. sa-sam,” you tried to tell him, but he was already ahead of you.

“i know, sweetheart. me too, god, me too. let go, give me one more. i know my girl’s got one more in her. give it to me, baby. all of it, all on me.” you were screaming out his name as he brought you towards bliss.

he wasn’t far behind, manhandling you enough to fuck up into you how he needed against the shower wall. curses left him as he came, warm spurts painting your gummy walls. he splayed his digits over your hipbone, moaning as his hips continued to stutter. “so good, so good, angel.”

the praise echoed in your mind before being consuming by his sloppy kiss against your lips, the shower still ran in the background. surprisingly still luke warm. “alright, let’s get you cleaned up, ‘kay?” he was careful the whole time, continuing to coo and coax to you. making you weak for the winchester all over again.

—

Tagged: @mostlymarvelgirl @theamuz @starzify @h8aaz @dulcescorderitas @bluemerakis @immodestly-marina @sorryitsmyfirstdayonearth

[saltcxrcle]

meddle about ── . ✶ s. winchester

summary: you have a date night with sam and he gets tipsy (and horny)

pairings: established sam winchester x reader, sam winchester x fem! reader warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI, no use of 'y/n', porn with very little plot, fluff, mentions of drinking, tipsy reader and sam, smut, oral fem! receiving, unprotected p in v sex, a sprinkle of a praise kink, aftercare, title is a chase atlantic song of the same name, kinda edited; all mistakes are my own word count: 1.7K a/n: i just need to have tipsy sex with sam RN, this was inspired by an ask blondie (@ohsc ugh i miss them dearly T-T) sent me a while back but i was reminded of it recently and decided that i needed to write it. lowkey sped run writing this bc intended it to be a blurb but i love to yap so enjoy the one shot! sam winchester masterlist

SAM USUALLY DOESN’T drink a lot, preferring to stay level-headed and coherent enough to watch out for you and Dean when the three of you go out. There are times when he indulges himself after a successful hunt and gets tipsy, but he is usually sobered up by the end of the night. 

Tonight was different though; the two of you had a date night, which was far and in between considering how often the three of you went out on hunts across the country. But lately, monster appearances were scarce, and other hunters were sent to take care of them. But you were starting to get stir-crazy within the bunker. So Sam took the two of you out on a nice dinner date, having gotten a reservation at one of the nicer restaurants in Lebanon.  

The both of you indulged in the drinks that the restaurant was serving, having copious amounts of wine—which always managed to make Sam a giggly and a happy drunk, his cheeks flushed and a dopey smile on his face. 

You were the one who drove back to the bunker since instead of having one last glass like Sam did, you had some water instead, sobering you up quite a bit. You were glad to see that Sam was letting loose for once and that the tension that he always held in his shoulders had dissipated. But once you got back to the bunker, Sam clung onto you and peppered kisses on your face and neck, stopping the two of you from heading to your room by pinning you against the cool walls of the bunker and pulling you into multiple small makeout sessions. 

You laughed against his lips at his sloppy kisses—they were usually more coordinated and precise. But tipsy Sam was eager and uncaring, but his kisses never lacked passion, whether it was a slow and sweet kiss or a lustful and dirty kiss. 

You managed to finally make it to your shared room with your boyfriend. You weren’t as tipsy as Sam, but you had a pleasant buzz thrumming through you, and you could feel that your face was flush with warmth (or it might have been from how Sam cupped your face in his hands as he pushed you against the wall and kissed you). 

Sam’s hands were on your hips and backing you up until you fell on the soft sheets of the bed. He all but collapsed on top of you, catching himself before he could hurt you with his broad frame. You let out a small laugh, Sam smiling widely at the sound, and you saw the amusement and desire shine in his hazel gaze as he looked down at you. 

“What?” You asked with a smile on your face as you cocked your head to the side slightly as you looked up at the man hovering over you. 

One of his hands came up to caress your cheek. “You’re beautiful. Just can’t believe that you’re mine.” Sam’s words were slightly slurred, but his tone was filled with reverence and adoration. 

“M’all yours.” You said with a breathy smile. Your arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him closer to you, his body slotting in between your open legs. “Love you Sammy.” 

“Love you too, honey.” Sam placed his lips against your slightly swollen ones, the feeling of love and desire washing over you as his soft lips moved against yours. He tasted like the sweet wine the two of you were drinking earlier and something you could only describe as distinctly Sam. 

The kiss slowly turned hotter and passionate, Sam’s tongue swiping at the seam of your lips before delving into it and sliding his tongue against yours in a sensual dance. Sam started to rut against you—his jean-covered bulge rubbing against your covered core sent sparks of pleasure through you, but it wasn’t enough, and he could tell. 

Sam broke the kiss, and you didn’t realize that you needed to breathe until you almost gasped for air. However, he was relentless with his kisses, trailing them down your jaw and neck. He nipped and sucked at your neck, marking you up as his hands went to the hem of the dress you were wearing for the date and started to lift it higher on your thighs. 

Sam made quick work of your dress, leaving you in only your underwear in front of him and let out a low groan at the sight of your bare chest. Before he could do anything, you sat up and tugged at the button-up shirt that was driving you crazy all night. It was a simple, crisp white button-up (no doubt from one of his fed getups), but the kicker was that he had rolled them up to the crook of his elbow, exposing the tanned skin of his forearms that never failed to make you salivate over them. You had a hard time focusing on him when all you wanted was to stare at his arms all night.

You managed to get all of the buttons undone before Sam’s hands landed on your shoulders and pushed you back on the bed, making a startled laugh escape your lips before it turned into a soft moan, feeling Sam nip at the smooth skin of your inner thighs as his hands trailed up your legs and thighs, leaving goosebumps in their wake as his deft fingers found the hem of your soaked underwear. 

Sam’s eyes were honed in on the wet patch of your underwear before leaning in and pressing a sloppy kiss against it, making you jolt from the sudden contact before you heard a rip of fabric. You opened your mouth to chastise Sam for ruining another pair of underwear, but all that came out was a moan of his name as Sam’s dexterous tongue began to lave and lick at your weeping cunt. 

“Taste s’good, baby.” Sam’s words were mumbled into your skin, sending vibrations through you and adding to the already rising heat of pleasure running through you. 

Sam ate you out messily, uncaring of the slick covering his nose, lips, and chin as he drank in your arousal. Your hands were wound in his hair, pulling at it slightly and grinding into his face, chasing your high. 

You could feel sweat coat your body as Sam worked over your heated cunt. You came with a shout as pleasure shot through you and clenched around nothing as Sam kept his lips wrapped around your sensitive clit, sucking on it softly, working you through your orgasm. 

When you came to your senses and calmed down from your high, Sam was in the process of stripping off his jeans, his shirt long gone, and you stared at his bare torso. His sun-kissed skin was littered with scars, some big, some small, and the black ink of his tattoo stood out on his chest. 

“See something you like?” Sam teased as a sly smile grew on his face as he stroked his hard cock. 

You bit your bottom lip. “Yeah, you.” 

Sam let out a small chuckle before getting back on the bed, making you shift up to the pillows as Sam crawled up and over your body. 

There was still a haze over his eyes, but it mainly was lust rather than the haze of inebriation. Sam dipped his head down to kiss you deeply as his bare cock rutted against your slightly sensitive core. 

A groan left Sam’s lips as your tight cunt stretched around his cock. “Fuck, you’re so tight honey.” 

A whine escaped you at the feeling of Sam’s cock filling you up to the brim. The two of you panted into each other’s mouths; the feeling of one another was overwhelming—the air was buzzing with lust and thirst for one another. 

Another whine left you as Sam began to move slowly, pulling out until his tip was the only thing inside of you before pushing back in with a sharp thrust. From there, Sam started to pound into you with reckless abandon; his thrusts were unrelenting as he let his inhibitions run rampant—no longer clouded by rational thought. 

“You feel so good around me– fuck– such a good girl f’me.” Sam groaned out before pulling you into a kiss that was mostly teeth and tongue as he continued to fuck you into the mattress, the headboard thumping against the wall of your bedroom. 

A symphony of moans and groans filled the room alongside the sound of Sam’s skin hitting your flesh. You and Sam ran on your basic instincts and the urge to reach and fulfill your unrestrained desires for one another.

Both of you were unaware of how loud the two of you were being as Sam slammed into you. You were scratching at Sam’s back as his head was buried in the crook of your neck, biting and continuing his work of marking you up— red and purple bruises already blooming in the spots he had already nipped at. 

“My pretty girl, can’t get enough of you. So amazing. Love you so much baby.” Sam’s voice was thick with lust as he murmured praises in your skin and ear. 

He managed to wind one of his hands in between the two of you, Sam’s thumb swirling circles into your clit as he shifted his hips slightly and started to hit your g-spot with every thrust. 

“Gon-gonna cum.” You whined out feeling the heat in your core bloom brighter and hotter. 

“Yeah? Be a good girl and come around my cock.” Sam’s commanding tone made you clench harder around him, a low grunt coming from him as his hips stuttered slightly at the sensation of you wrapped tightly around him. 

Sam pressed down on your clit harder and you came with a sharp cry, your cunt contracting around his thick cock, triggering his own release as he shoved himself inside of you and let his cum fill you up even further.

The two of you stayed connected for a while as the two of you came down from your highs. Sam pulled out his softening cock, a whimper leaving your lips at the sensation of being empty. Sam made his way to the on-suite bathroom and used warm water to wet a hand towel. He quickly cleans you up and then himself up before maneuvering your tired and pliant body underneath the covers—tucking you into his side before falling asleep, uncaring of how he would probably wake up with a slight headache in the morning. 

[angelsberrymilk]

I had never thought about shipping Soldier Boy and Sam, and now they won't leave my mind 👁️👄👁️

I need more of them!!!

soldier boy is mean and crazy, especially after being held captive for like 40 years and so when he finally escapes he realises everything changed and ppl have forgotten him as a hero. and it seems like the only person who genuinely cares abt him is this bright eyed guy who's freakishly tall and has princess hair, Sam, he said his name was.

the thing is, soldier boy's name is Ben, not freaking dean, and who's Dean anyway??? but that doesn't matter when Sam is there looking after him and is like, so glad he found him and hugs him so tight, and soldier boy misses the physical contact, misses human affection.

don't get me wrong now, soldier boy is a bad man, he's really shitty and everyone would be safer if he died, but luckily Sammy is there to distract him from committing crimes, or at least some of them.

Sammy knows that's not his brother, but that's a version of his brother, he wears his face and sounds like him, and he likes greasy burgers and shitty diner food, as it happens, so there's similarities after all. Sammy doesn't care that the more he looks into this guy, the more scary, and fucked up shit he finds abt him, this version of Dean is NOT good, he's a total maniac. but the only reason he's like this is because he doesn't have sam in this universe, doesn't have Bobby or Castiel or even Baby.

Soldier Boy drags Sammy with him whenever they go and Sammy follows, he listens to Sam trying to explain he's from another universe and that in the other universe they're brothers, and all soldier boy says is, "I'm not your brother," Sammy is a bit confused but keeps going and tells him abt monsters they hunt, demons, angels and soldier boy listens, and all he takes away from that speech is that Sammy is definitely on something, and soldier boy WANTS some from what he's having.

Sam also quickly realises that in this universe, people have superpowers, so gets cornered once at a gas stop by someone who can turn their skin into burning lava, and Sammy quickly realises he's vulnerable here, he doesn't know the first thing to fight off these people, it's a scary world, but then soldier boy shows up, and he's furious, blasts that person away and goes to town on them, he's animalistic, sadistic and brutal, with every hit, with every crunch and every rip, Sammy flinches, blood and fire flying everywhere.

and when soldier boy is done he has a wild look on his face, he's satisfied with his work, so he drags a shaking Sammy back in the car and Sammy just starts crying, he doesn't make any noises either and the man doesn't even know what to do, so he does the first thing he can think off and hugs him tight, and as soon as he wraps his inhumanly strong arms around Sammy, Sammy starts to sob. and soldier boy thinks of how to calm him down, so he thinks of westerns he's watched where the main lead would comfort the girl after she gets kidnapped or hurt, so he does just that, rocks them a little, runs his hands down Sammy's back and stroked his hair, shushing and cooing at him, that nobody will hurt him, not if soldiers there, not if deans there.

[littlesoulshine]

the camera shakes in dean’s hand as he lifts it, the lens zeroing in on you, sprawled out between them, bare skin already heated and flushed. he grins, that cocky, shit-eating grin that always makes your stomach twist up, except now it’s your cunt clenching around nothing, anticipation thick in the air. “look at her, sammy,” he murmurs, tilting the camera so it captures the way your chest rises and falls, the way your legs shift like you can’t decide whether to press together or spread wider. “she’s already fuckin’ gone for us.”

sam chuckles low, that deep, warm sound that always sends a shiver straight down your spine. he’s behind you, long fingers trailing up your arm, over your shoulder, teasing along the side of your neck. “c’mon, sweetheart,” he says, voice honeyed and coaxing. “you gonna show the camera what a good girl you are for us?”

you bite your lip, but dean’s already setting the camera down on the nightstand at an angle, making sure it catches everything as he leans in, hand curling under your chin. “nah, don’t do that,” he tuts. “lemme see that pretty mouth.” his thumb slides over your lower lip, pressing in just enough to coax it open, and his eyes darken when you let your tongue flick against the pad of it.

“jesus christ,” sam mutters, and then his hands are on your waist, pulling you back against him, his mouth hot against the curve of your shoulder. his teeth scrape, and you whimper—something needy and desperate that has dean groaning as he kneels between your legs, hands gliding up your thighs.

“sammy, get the camera again,” dean says, his voice rough with want. “wanna make sure we don’t miss a second of this.”

sam’s fingers drift lower, skimming between your legs, teasing, just enough to make you whine. “think she likes that,” he muses, reaching over to grab the camera, bringing it close again. the red light blinks, recording every second. he tilts it down, making sure to get dean in the frame as he spreads you open, running his fingers through the slick between your thighs.

“shit, sweetheart,” dean murmurs, gaze flicking up to yours as he lets his fingers sink in, slow and teasing. “you’re drippin’. bet you’ve been waiting for this all night, huh?”

sam chuckles, shifting the camera back to your face. “tell the camera, sweetheart,” he urges, his free hand sliding up to cup your breast, fingers tweaking your nipple just right. “tell it how bad you want us.”

heat floods through you, your skin burning under their touch, under the scrutiny of the lens. “please,” you murmur, breath hitching when dean’s fingers curl just right inside you. “want you so bad—need you both.”

dean grins up at you, then turns his head toward the camera, smirking. “you hear that, sammy? she needs us.” he glances back at you, wicked amusement flickering in his eyes. “guess we better give her what she wants.”

sam hums his agreement, shifting the camera to catch every detail—the way dean’s fingers work you open, the way your body reacts, trembling and eager. then he hands the camera off to dean, making sure it stays focused on you as he drags you back against him, letting you feel every inch of how hard he is through his jeans. “think she’s ready for us?”

“oh, she’s ready,” dean says, voice thick with need. he adjusts the camera again, making sure it’s aimed right as he tugs his belt open, metal clinking, fabric rustling. “and she’s gonna look so fuckin’ pretty takin’ it.”

sam reaches over, taking the camera from dean and flipping it around to face both of them. the screen reflects their wicked grins, eyes dark with hunger as they look straight into the lens. “hope you’re ready for this,” sam murmurs, dragging his tongue over his lower lip. dean leans in beside him, smirking at the camera. “gonna make sure she never forgets this,” he says, voice low and thick with promise. sam nods, glancing at dean before turning the camera back to you. “yeah, we’re about to wreck her.”

taglist: @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing @legalmente-loca @bluemerakis @whisperingdaze @cherrygirlfriend

[godjustkys]

hii i’d love to read a fic about sam being a top at the start of ur sex life but slowly breaking down into a sub who cries during sex, loves vibrating strokers, being slapped, calls his lover “sir”, loves his hands being tied behind his back and his hair pulled, he likes to wear mascara that runs as he’s being fucked, he loves a mix of harsh degradation and praise

THEME: big boy sammy turning to a pathetic, subby lil thing for you.

CHARACTER: dom!male reader x sub!sam winchester

NOTE: imagine going from a guy who is very clearly a top to the guy who's taking it up the ass just because he's a crybaby who likes to be degraded.

WARNING: DACRYPHILIA,, toy use,, roughhousing,, light slapping,, bit of pet name use (sir),, bondage,, slight hair pulling,, wearing makeup for the sole purpose of ruining it,, DEGRADATION,, praise,, feminization

at the start of your relationship, you had just let sam take control of the sex life. he's a big fella and you haven't given the time to think about sam being the bottom for you.

that is until you had started noticing how much he sought your praise when he was fucking you, giving you those cute puppy dog eyes to enunciate his point. the more your relationship progressed, the more submissive he became. so one day, you decided to try and switch it up; make sam the bottom.

good lord.

after that one time, there was no return. the two of you started experimenting more with certain kinks. even the use of toys, which you had learned that sam adores. all of that brings us to this night.

sammy sitting on the edge of the bed, legs spread, face scrunched up as his hands clenched into fists behind his back; his wrists were tied. he was gushing over the way you were just.. kneeling there, your hand on the vibrating stroker that was currently on his cock, moving it up and down, changing the pace up from time to time. sam did his best to not squirm or jitter. to just sit there and take what you give him like the good boy that he is.

“how's that feel, sam? you gettin' close?” your voice, barely above a whisper, asked, eyes trained onto his expression. sam's thighs tensed and he almost closed his legs, but he stopped himself just in time. he let out a few soft pants, his eyes screwed shut. “sss— yes, mhmm.. m'close..” he got out, his voice strained as his body tensed.

“you gonna be a good boy and cum for me?” you turned the toy from side to side as you continued the up and down motion, egging sam on. “ah- ah-huh, mm, yes sir, yes, jus— jus' a- a little more.” he breathed, hips stuttering as he jerked forward slightly, finally reaching his peak. he dirtied the toy of course, but that didn't matter to you much.

it didn't take long for the guy to end up on the bed, his shoulders and face pressed to the mattress, ass up, his hands still tied behind his back. you pushed your cock against his rim, earning a soft whine from him. “such a slut. you wearin' mascara? for real?” you inquired gently, looking at his side profile as he had his head turned to the side. sam's eyes fluttered shut, lips parted, mind blank. “sam, baby, answer.” you coaxed him, your voice so sweet, fingers carding through his hair. sam let out a tiny, breathless moan at the feeling of your hand at his scalp before answering. “y- it's- you like it, right?” he rasped out, keeping his eyes closed. you only asked that because you saw some of the mascara smudged under his eyes. placing your other hand on the small of sam's back, you pushed your cock in half way, pulled out to the tip and slammed into him with a harsh thrust, bottoming out. the latter whimpered at the roughness, taking in a sharp breath through his mouth, eyebrows stitched together. “g-gah, fuck,” he gasped, his body still sensitive since he came from that vibrating stroker..

your pace was rough. relentless, even though you just started. sam was already writhing, his hands subconsciously tugging on the restraints on his wrists. he clenched around you, his mouth open as the endless moans and whines fell from his pretty lips. “want me to make you cry? fuck you so good that your mascara runs? hm?” you asked rhetorically, giving a particularly hard thrust, in return, sam's back arched and his stomach tensed. “nn- ah, mhm, yes, fuck yes, please-” he whined desperately, pushing his hips back to meet your thrusts.

after a bit, the room was moderately quiet. well, if we're not counting the sounds of skin slapping against skin and sam absolutely sobbing out moans and mewls, hot tears running down his cheeks, his pretty face stained with runny mascara. yeah, this was a good sight. “you're such a whore,” you breathed, trying to keep your voice level despite the panting. “i might start thinking that- this.. ugh, this is the only thing you're good for.” you finished, your hands on his ass, fingers pressed into the flesh. sam let out a soft sob as he processed your words, rubbing his face slightly against the mattress to rid himself of the tears on his face. “i'm using you, and you just don't care?” you mumbled, your face twitching slightly as you kept up the steady pace. “pathetic. you're a sobbing- stuttering mess..”

sam's wrists were red from the continuous straining. he moaned your name, his voice shaky and barely audible. “gghh— aha— oh, fff-fuck,, ah..” his voice was higher pitched and broken in some places. you have hit his g-spot so many times - that's why he's sobbing. it was a mix between pleasure and pain, but his brain was too foggy to distinguish which one was the more prominent feeling. it overwhelmed him and he.. just started crying. but that didn't make you stop, no, why would it? you had pulled out momentarily, only to turn sam over on his back, pushing his legs open and pushing your cock all the way in again, your pace gaining a rhythm that was a bit slower than before.

due to sam's hands being restrained, they stayed under him, basically, he was laying on top of them. it was an uncomfortable feeling but he didn't focus on it too much. sam's face was scrunched up and he was biting his bottom lip to contain the sounds. your hand moved to his chin, which got him to open his eyes even if it was just slightly. he stopped biting his lip, too. you pushed your thumb into his mouth, swirling it around his tongue. he moaned around your finger, his hips stuttering. sam's eyes were so glossy, his undereyes smudged with the makeup. “does the sluttiness run in the family?” you mumbled almost bitterly. “dean's sleeping around with every woman that catches his eye, and you- fuck.. you take cock like you were made for it.” you commented, pushing your thumb to the back of sam's tongue, making him gag slightly and tear up even more. “whorehouse.” another grumble left your lips, eyes staying fixated on sam's mouth.

your free hand ran over sam's pecs and he squirmed a bit as your palms pressed against his nipples. his sounds were getting muffled by the finger in his mouth, but you were just adding a new sensation on top of the others. so overwhelming.. so overstimulating. “god, don't you need a bra for- ngh.. these?” you mocked, narrowing your eyes slightly as you finally looked at his chest. sam managed a mewl as a response to your words. “pecs, they say, yeah.. right.. you got tits.” you said, sending a weird shiver down sam's spine. he coughed a couple times which in return made you take your thumb out of his mouth. his lips were slick with saliva, drool on the corners of his mouth and down his chin. “bastard.” you said through gritted teeth, both hands moving down to grip his trembling thighs.

it went on for a good thirty minutes. you edged sam in the process, not letting him cum. he was so jittery, his body trembling non stop. eventually, just as an experiment, you got the guy on the floor on his knees, his aching arms behind his back, still. he could barely hold himself up but you wanted to fuck his mouth, so he'd have to bear with it. the mascara on his eyelashes was hardly even visible anymore, all it left was a couple black stained streaks down his face. sam was breathing heavily as you pressed the tip of your cock to the side of his face. “c'mon, be a good boy and open your mouth for me..” you uttered urgently, your hand on the bottom of sam's chin, holding quite gently.

sam was fucked so good he was out of it. his red, puffy eyes stared off into nothing and it made you have second thoughts. you used your free hand to very lightly slap sam's cheek to get him to snap out of it. you were about to voice your concerns and finish up with this, but the moment sam looked up at you, all your doubts disappeared. he was looking at you with those puppy dog eyes, so expectantly. he was so wrecked and so pretty, visibly shaking. you didn't even have to repeat yourself and sam opened his mouth, turning his head to the side slightly, his soft lips wrapping around your length so perfectly. “haah, good.. that's good..” you murmured, one hand staying on his jaw, the other moving to the side of his face. “what was that..” you asked softly as sam took you all the way, his lips pressing to your base. “slapping? that's what you're into?” you mused breathlessly as the latter hollowed out his cheeks and started moving his head forwards and backwards, his eyes fluttering shut.

“fuckin' freak,” you degraded, pushing your hips to his mouth a bit quicker, sam's eyebrows furrowing again. he pulled off of your length, only to move his head, stick out his tongue and trace a vein on your cock with it. that action earned a groan from you. “how many dicks have you sucked, hm..? you a prostitute or somethin'? keep your mouth on it,” you had slapped him again, this time more harshly than before. sam breathed out a shaky sigh, muttering what you believed to be a small apology under his breath, putting his mouth over your tip. you just pushed your cock all the way in, down sam's throat, making him gag around it, his teeth accidentally grazing your length. tears welled up in his eyes unfailingly, his jaw going slack. you started facefucking him, being rough. not that sam minded, after all. you were overstimulated from the previous activities, so it didn't take a while for you to cum down sam's throat, your hands tangled in his damp hair. he swallowed around your cock, his thighs pressed together, shoulders tense. “such a good boy..” you said, pulling your length out of his mouth, your thumb wiping away the drool on his chin. “you did so good.” you rasped out, pushing his hair back and out of his face.

this wasn't the first time you were rough with sam. certainly wasn't the last one.

word count: 1,7k (1773)

[cherrygirlfriend]

⟡ ₊ . ༄.° safe in your arms

pairing: dean winchester x reader synopsis: reader wakes up from a nightmare and dean comforts her tags/warnings: smut, oral (fem. receiving), fluff, MDNI! wc: 1.4k a/n; not only does dean eat box, but he eats it backwards, forwards, sideways, on his knees, on his tippytoes, in the morning, in the evenings, at night, in the middle of the day, in the bunker, in the impala, in- you get the gist. thank you to babycakes @gibson-g1rl for giving me the idea w the panties holy lordy ૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა

dean winchester masterlist ♡

dean was never the kind to be a deep sleeper. when you first got together and started sharing a bed, every little thrash you'd made in your sleep was enough to startle him awake, and the first few times it happened, the man had reached under his pillow for his gun.

overtime, though, he got used to you sleeping in his arms, managing to sleep through nearly anything, your movements, squirming around in his arms, the small whines and snores you let out in your sleep, even the occasional times you'd start talking in your sleep about the peanut butter monster.

so, it was odd when he was startled awake in the middle of the night, your warm body nestled in his arms, dean's heart racing. he looked down, smiling fondly at you as his heartbeat started settling down. he sighed, pressing a soft kiss on top of your head, only to realize that the noises you were making weren't the normal whimpers you'd make in your sleep.

your little whimpers were a higher pitch, your breathing was heavy and he could make out soft mumbles of, 'help' as well as his own name leaving your lips.

"sweets?" dean said softly, gently shaking you, "baby, wake up."

after a few more shakes, you were startled awake, your eyes flicking open as you sat up in bed, looking at him with wide eyes, heavy breaths leaving your lips as your heart raced against your chest. you brought your hand to your heart, as if willing it to calm down.

"sorry..." you sigh, your voice still heavy with sleep "did i wake you?"

"don't apologize, silly." dean looked at you with furrowed brows, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear, "did you have a nightmare, baby?"

you nodded as you settled back into his arms, starting to draw small patterns on his bare chest, a small shiver running down his spine at the contact as he kissed the top of your hear, "you wanna talk about it?"

"just..." a small sigh left your lips, "you were nowhere to be found. that... scared me. It made me feel like you were... actually gone." you swallowed, looking up into dean's eyes as if you were searching for something in the small yellow flecks surrounded by a sea of green, "i don't know what i'd do if you were. i'm so... used to your presence in my life."

his lips twisted into a small smile and he let out a small tut, eyes following his calloused as fingers as they traced the chain of the necklace he'd gotten you for your birthday, "well, sweet girl," he started, looking up into your eyes, his eyes crinkling, "good thing i'm not going anywhere."

"promise?"

"promise." dean pressed a kiss to your lips that was all too fleeting, it always feeling like no matter how many times he pressed his lips on yours, it would never be long enough. his hand traced the strap of your nightgown, "you know what i hear helps with nightmares, sweets?"

"oh? and what's that?"

"orgasms."

you let out a soft laugh, shaking your head, "and where'd you read that?"

"oh, it was... some science-nerdy magazine thing sammy had laying around. you wouldn't like it. so, wanna give it a try?"

"mmm... who am i to decline some scientific research?"

dean grinned and knelt down on the bed, watching you with a gleam in his eyes as you settled back in bed, your brows raised as if you were challenging him, egging him on.

one thing about dean was that he never rushed when it came to you, and especially when it came to pleasuring you. one of your legs was hooked over his shoulder as his lips made their way up from your ankle at a tortuously slow pace, until they met your knee, one of his hands holding onto your thigh as he drew small, slow circles on your inner thigh that had you clenching around nothing.

from your knee, he kissed up your inner thigh, and it felt like your entire body was clenched in anticipation, each hot press of his lips against your skin making you feel like you were going to die if you didn't feel him right at that moment.

as dean's lips got closer and closer to where you needed him the most, he pushed up the hem of your nightgown until it rested rumpled just over the hills of your breasts. the hand that had pushed your nightwear up kneaded your breast for a moment, your nipple pebbling under his rough hand.

you arched into him once you finally felt his calloused fingers pressing on the damp spot in your lace panties, the man letting out a soft chuckle against the warm skin of your inner thigh, his thumb drawing circles on your puffy clit through the lacy fabric.

"fuck, sweets..." dean groaned as he pressed his nose right at the darkened spot he'd caused, breathing in the scent of your arousal, "she's always so needy for me, huh?" he chuckles, increasing the speed of his thumb.

he flicked his tongue out to taste the patch of fabric with a hum, causing a shiver to run down your spine, "dean..." you whined, as he firmly pressed the fabric of your underwear against your pussy, watching as your arousal started to soak through the fabric. dean ran his finger through your lace-covered slit over and over again until it was practically molded to the shape of your lips.

darting his tongue out, he ran it up the length of your cunt, causing you to let out a gasp as his long fingers teased your entrance through the lace.

"taste s'damn good even through these things..." dean groaned against your pussy, pressing kisses on your clothed folds, "but i think we should take 'em off, huh?" he chuckled, "these must be ruined to all hell, dont'c'ha think?"

"mmhm..." you hummed, your half-lidded eyes watching as dean practically peeled your soaked panties off, slowly sliding them down your legs, looking at the pair with a grin before discarding them, "those are definitely ruined, sweetie."

this time, dean didn't even take a moment to get to where you were aching for him, his eyes glossing over as he looked down at your cunt, practically glistening from how much you needed him. he laid down between your thighs, his muscular arms wrapped around your thighs as he presses a kiss right next to your clit, his stubble tickling your inner thigh, "s'good..."

you let out a surprised yelp when dean immediately started to lap up some of your arousal with his tongue, swirling his tongue around your clit. your hands went to his hair, gripping onto it for your own sanity.

he sucked the puffy bud into his mouth, flicking it with his tongue, two of dean's fingers teasing your entrance, gathering some of your wetness before pushing the long digits into you slowly, inch by agonizing inch.

dean thrusted his fingers in and out of you until he finally found a pace that was good for him, one that caused you to grip onto his hair even tighter, that made your legs shake.

you arched into his mouth; you had no idea how he did it; how he managed to touch you in just the right way, to bring you to the edge so easily. every touch made you wish it could last forever, while also knowing that you couldn't take it any longer.

"dean..." you whine, feeling yourself starting to clench around his fingers, "dean, i'm gonna-"

"shhh..." he mumbled against your clit, as if he was too enamored by the taste of you to detach himself from it, to detach himself from you. "just let it happen."

and as you finally felt the pleasure that he'd been building up drop, you let out fervent moans of his name, your hand tugging him closer to your core, the pace of his fingers slowing down as you clenched around them, causing the man to let out a tsk.

after you had finally come down from your orgasm, dean licked a few more stripes up your pussy, mumbling something about 'cleaning up', before his face was right above yours, his lips and chin covered in your arousal as if he had just eaten the most delicious thing he'd ever tasted, his lips twisted up into a grin.

"so, think that'll help you with your nightmares, sweets?

[carolinanadeau]

Sally Ann Howes interviewed about an incident where she was trapped in her dressing room during a performance of What Makes Sammy Run? on Broadway, 1964

[mickeys-been-staying-at-ians]

So Dean is fucked up after Cas is taken into the Empty obviously, all melancholy, no sleep, drinking too much, you know his gist. Sam probably tries to get him to talk about it, but he would never tell him everything Cas said, you know. So Dean is miserable, and Sam is miserable, but THEY DON'T STOP trying to get Cas back.

And they do, somehow. So Cas appears somewhere in the library or wherever they were Doing What Brought Him Back and there's a second of confused, vulnerable silence because this can't be real don't believe it's real he's gonna disappear and it's gonna suck all over again but he stays, and looks at Dean, and then Dean is hugging him, clutching him like... well, like everything that happened, happened, and they're breathing each other in. Cas hasn't had the chance to think about what it all means, yet, so he's not overthinking it. Then they break apart, and Dean has tears in his eyes and his lower lip is shaking, and while Sam hugs Cas, too, Dean's body is like, shutting down, months of exhaustion (physical and emotional) catching up to him, and he feels it coming, so when Sam gets Cas to sit down, making him drink some water, Dean's like "I'm just gonna-" and he's running into his room and he doesn't even make it inside before he starts sobbing. He's sitting against his bed, his face in his hands, all wet now, when Sam comes in. Maybe he knocked, maybe not, Dean couldn't hear him. And he tries to cover himself a little, but Sam sees anyway, and he's so tired, so he just. Doesn't care.

And Sam says, "Dean, don't hide from him" and Dean isn't sobbing anymore but he's still crying into his palms, saying "I'm so tired, Sammy" and Sam knows. He doesn't know what happened between Dean and Cas but Cas said he did something and now Dean wouldn't feel comfortable around him. So, you know. Sam can guess, a little.

So he says, "He thinks you don't want anything to do with him anymore" and "you should go talk to him" and Dean is like "I can't" and he doesn't know why, maybe because he's exhausted, or because he doesn't know what to say to him , or because Cas sacrifised himself for him again, or because he told him he loved him and turned Dean's world upside down and disappeared, or maybe because he's scared.

And Sam knows this is all happening in Dean's head and he knows some of it is whispered to him in their dad's voice, so he says, "you know nothing in the world would ever change how I think of you," and Dean's head snaps towards him, wet with bloodshot eyes, confused and terrified, but he doesn't say anything, so Sam asks, "what really happened down there?" and Dean knows Sam knows. There's a hand squeezing his heart and lungs and he can't breathe, and Sam knows, and Dean wishes he could go back to when it wasn't even an option.

"He's your best friend," Sam says, and he is, he is, he's Dean's best friend, above all else, it's not just sacrifises and battles and blood and desperate confessions, it's also movies and music and inside jokes, so Dean asks Sam to get Cas. He does, and leaves them in Dean's room alone. And Dean says "don't ever die for me again" and "you think you saved me but i was barely alive" and "next time we die together" which is maybe a little fucked up, but he's feeling so raw. He says, "you're my best friend" and looks at Cas, hoping Cas hears everything he isn't saying, how Cas is the most important person in all the universes to Dean. He's family, but he doesn't say that, doesn't want Cas to think he's family like anyone else, because Cas is more. To Dean, Cas is- something Dean won't say yet, but he is.

And they have a quiet dinner with Sam because they're all tired, and Cas showers while they turn on the TV and bring out a couple of beers, and they act like it's a normal day in their life. Dean's head keeps falling and his eyes keep closing, his temples aching, but he stays, and at some point Sam goes to sleep, and when they're alone Cas tries to get Dean to go, too, but he keeps coming up with lame excuses to stay and Cas doesn't know what to make of it until he thinks maybe Dean doesn't want to be alone, or even - maybe Dean doesn't want to leave Cas alone, maybe he's scared something will happen to him again, or maybe he wants to just - be with Cas longer. And Cas is completely out of his element, because why would Dean- But it doesn't matter. His priority has always been Dean's well-being, so if there's any chance Dean is pushing himself because of - some of that, Cas will step up.

So he asks Dean if he can sleep in Dean's room tonight because he doesn't want to be alone. And there's a blaring red light going off in Dean head, screaming he knows he knows he knows Dean wants him to... what? Dean doesn't even know. Cas is asking as if for himself, for Dean's benefit, and Dean. God. Dean loves him, doesn't he? He's always loved him, but he loves him like... like... but he doesn't think it, still. He feels too open, now, and he wants to lock himself in his room and sleep it off and drink and stop feeling so vulnerable, he thinks he must be an open book to everyone, to Cas especially, and god, could people always tell? Can Cas tell, now? But why does it matter? Cas told him- he told him-

But none of it matters, because Cas is here, and he's offereing Dean an easy way out, and Dean is a weak, weak man, and he's exhausted and all he wants is to breathe Cas' air and know he's here, and not going anywhere.

So Dean puts on an old T-shirt and gets out of his jeans like he always does before realizing Cas is here. He flushes all over, sits down on his bed because he didn't think about how this was gonna go. Cas glances at the desk as if he was gonna sit in his chair the whole night, and Dean doesn't actually know if Cas sleeps now or doesn't, which he maybe should've thought of before, but before he can say anything, Cas says, "Dean, I don't want to make you uncomfortable" and Dean, completely lost, says the first thing that comes to his mind, which is, "can you lie down with me?" which is not exactly how he was gonna tell Cas he's the opposite of uncomfortable with him, but it does the trick. He makes Cas get out of his dress pants and gives him a T-shirt to sleep in, too, and flushes even more when he realizes what Cas is wearing. Dean lies down when Cas steps towards the bed, faces the wall because he doesn't know what to do with himself. They lie in silence for an awkward moment before Cas says, "are we okay?" and Dean says, "of course we are" and Dean knows Cas is still overthinking it, and he is, too, but... Cas took the leap, and he must feel so uncertain about them, and Dean thinks he owes him something, at least. Cas told him he loved him. Nothing felt right since then, because Cas died and because Cas thought he could never have what he wanted and because Cas thought he wasn't the most important person in Dean's life with Sammy, whatever that meant, and because Dean had to come to terms with that reality, a reality where Cas loves him, has loved him, him, Dean, broken and all. A man. A man Cas thought beautiful, and loving, and- and Dean has many issues, but Cas was never one of them, and Cas deserves to feel certain about his place in Dean's life.

So Dean asks Cas to come closer, and there's a still moment before Cas does, still too far away from Dean, and Dean can't see him, can't make himself turn because his heart is beating so loud he thinks if he looks at Cas, it's gonna beat out of his chest. So he reaches behind himself, finds Cas' hand and brings it forward, keeps it between his hands and brings them to his face. Breathes Cas in. "Please don't leave again" he says, in that tone he used when he prayed to Cas. He feels Cas shift, finally, as if he lost some of the tension from his body, feels the bed dip behind him, and he doesn't know how Cas moves but then Dean's back is pressed against Cas' front, and despite his beating heart, Dean is feeling the exhaustion start to take him. "Cas, I..." he tries, but he can't think anymore, can't make sense of anything.

"You can fall asleep, Dean," Cas says, his words warm in Dean's hair and the last thing he hears before sleep takes him is "I will be here when you wake up."

So when Dean wakes up, it's to a heavy arm around his chest and slow breaths against the back of his head. There's no moment of confusion about who he's with, or why. He doesn't even get a second to consider if it was real before Cas says "good morning, Dean" and Dean wonders if Cas slept at all. If he needs to sleep, now. There's so much they need to talk about, all three of them.

"Cas," he tries again, remembereing his attempt from last night. He needs Cas to know, for sure. "Cas, I - what you said. You know I. I've never..." and Cas is like "I know, Dean" but he sounds a little confused, so Dean doensn't know what Cas thinks he knows. So he turns, takes a second to notice how close they are now, and he thinks about Cas' eyes, his lips. Thinks, soon.

"You have to know," he says, as if Cas didn't say anything. "You have to know how I - what I" and he can't get the words out, not sure if it would be easier if there were no words to get out or if there were no voices in his head screaming over them. So he breathes in, Cas' scent overtaking his senses, brings his palm to Cas' face. Closes his eyes. Thinks, soon. Thinks, now, and meets Cas halfway.

[lordprettyflackotara]

easy silence || sam golbach

smut minors dni 18+. this is the fluffiest shit i can produce guys sorry

You were the best thing in Sam’s life.

He glanced down at you sleeping, your eyes fluttered shut and chest rising and falling slowly. You were curled up against his chest, ever so often nuzzling your face against his bare skin. His arm was securely wrapped around you, holding you as you blissfully danced in dreamland. Sam brushed some stray hairs out of your face, listening to the slow and even breaths you took.

In a world full of chaos, particularly one that Sam lived as a content creator, you seemed to be his peace. He found refuge when he was with you. You were a normal girl, one that opted to stay out of the spotlight. Your identity was hidden, your desire for clout and fame nonexistent. You stayed behind the camera, giggling ever so often at one of the boys jokes. You adored Sam for what he truly was, a young man with aspirations and wild adventures. You even got along with Colby, who you also took care of. It wasn’t a question with you as to whether or not you could handle his friendship with him. When you cooked, you always cooked for the three of you without a second thought. You always asked how Colby was. When both him and Colby were sick you took care of them both without question.

You created easy silence in a life full of overstimulating constant noise.

Sam pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, admiring your beauty. You stirred ever so slightly, your eyes slowly blinking open. “Hi Sammy,” You greeted, your throat dry. Sam felt bad, having woken you up. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you,” He apologized. You gave him a sleepy smile, shaking your head. “Relax, you know I always sleep in. It’s probably noon by now anyways right?” You asked. The two of you were in a hotel near the Lizzie Borden house, the boys investigating it until dawn the night prior. You were their enthusiastic cameraman, who passed out from exhaustion the moment you both returned to your hotel room. Sam struggled with consistent sleep, his mind always running a mile an hour. Somehow sleeping beside you made it easier, but he always woke up first out of habit.

Sam grabbed his phone, checking the time. You playfully hissed at the brightness, hiding your face in his chest. “It’s about 1:30,” Sam concluded, tossing his phone aside. You re-emerged from hiding, yawning. “Sounds about right, you shower yet?” You hummed. Sam shook his head, running his fingers through his hair. His morning had already been stressful, twitter having a field day with attempting to cancel him for the prices of his and Colby’s merch. “Hey stop it, you’re overthinking again,” You say, poking at him. You’d been with Sam so long you knew his facial expressions to a T. His eyebrows would furrow and eyes would harden whenever he was deep in thought. To anyone else he looked concentrated, but you knew he was spiraling on the inside. “Sorry,” He mumbled. You threw the covers off of the both of you, grabbing his hand. “Cmere, let me take care of you,” You said, delivering a small smile. Who was Sam to deny that?

He followed after you, the cool hotel AC making him shiver. You turned on the shower, tossing your oversized shirt over your head. Sam was mesmerized as he watched you undress, shrugging your panties down your thighs before discarding them on the floor. He could feel his cheeks turning a tint of pink. Somehow the sight of you doing the most mundane things always made him giddy inside. You stepped into the shower, soaking in the warmth as Sam undressed himself. He followed in behind you, his hands finding your waist with ease. You turned around to face him, smiling at the sight of his eagerness to kiss you. It was always like this with you, so relaxed and happy. Temporarily all of Sam’s stress was subsided, his full attention on you. His lips met yours with a passion, your lips eager to keep up with his.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, the warm water sliding down the two of you as you entangled in one another. You didn’t know if you could ever get enough of this. Sam snaked his hand down to your folds, opening his eyes to admire you. “Open your legs for me,” He mumbled lowly. The submission in your eyes sparked, your thighs spreading apart at his very word. He rubbed slow circles around your clit, bringing his lips back to yours. Playfully he nibbled at your lower lip, chuckling as you whimpered, Your core was throbbing with desire, Sam knowing all of your sweet spots without even trying. Your noises became louder and less controlled, causing you to pull away from his lips. “Cmon baby, be loud for me. I know you want to,” He encouraged. Your eyes screwed shut, your forehead leaning against his and you bucked your hips against his hand desperately. Sam took the hint, dipping two fingers into your eager cunt. You moaned his name, allowing the blonde to push you against the tiled wall for support.

He curled his fingers inside of you, your gummy walls clinging to him desperately. He tilted your head to the side, nibbling at your ear lobe. “There we go, such a good girl for me,” Sam praised, his breath hot against your ear. You grabbed his wrist as he mercilessly finger fucked you, abusing your g spot as he pleased. “Aweee what’s wrong? Can’t handle it?” Sam asked teasingly, water droplets falling in his face from his soaking wet hair. You loved when he did this. You loved when he teased and mocked you, your walls telling you everything he needed to know. “If you can’t handle my fingers, how are you gonna handle my cock?” He asked, licking his lips. He watched your nipples harden, looking down to watch you grind on his hand. You could feel yourself getting closer to the edge, the delicious euphoria you craved coming closer and closer. “Sammy it feels so good,” You whined. Sam used his spare hand to grab your chin, causing your soft eyes to flutter open.

“Look at me baby. Look at me as you cum for me,” He ordered. Your lips were parted, the blonde taking the opportunity to slide his thumb into your mouth. You began to suck on it, the action causing Sam’s cock to grow hard. You cursed as you released on his fingers, your walls spasming and thoughts incoherent as you let go. Your vision went white, your heart pounding as Sam slipped out his fingers. He brought his lips back to yours, your lips meeting his in a dazed state. “I’m sorry you’re just so beautiful, I could kiss you for the rest of time,” He confessed. You felt heat rash across your cheeks, the warm water not helping. “Sammy…” You say, your voice trailing off. Sam brushed your hair over your shoulder, swallowing. “I’m serious. You make everything feel so easy, I mean, fuck, I love you,” Sam rambled. You gave him a toothy grin, kissing him deeply. “I love you too,” You panted, briefly pulling away from him. His eyes met yours curiously.

“Sam?”

“Yeah?”

“Can you please fuck me now?”

You giggled at the blunt question, causing Sam to chuckle. “Oh does my little whore wanna be fucked now? I see,” He mused. In a swift motion he picked you up by your thighs, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist. He rubbed his shaft up and down your slick, watching you whimper as his tip brushed against your clit. It was then Sam pushed inside of your entrance, your head tilting back as he bottomed out inside of you. You both took a moment, your walls adjusting to his girth while he focused on not cumming right then and there. You were perfect in every way. You and your cunt. You always milked him so perfectly, so much so it took Sam lots of training to not cum quick. You were blissfully unaware of this, that being Sam’s only secret. “Feel good?” He asked. You melted under his touch, his hips beginning to move. You groaned in agreement, his large hands grabbing your waist.

He firmly held you into place, picking up the pace and fucking you into the wall. His thrust were slow and hard, the blonde in front of you wanting you to feel every inch of him during every second. Sam bit his bottom lip, both of you watching your cunt eagerly swallow his cock. “Fuck, Sammy,” You whined, gripping onto his shoulders for support. The blonde began to fuck you faster, determined to make your body tremble beneath his. The shower water was beginning to run cold, neither of you seeming to notice as Sam fucked you. “Thats it, you can take it,” He grunted. He brought himself closer to you, nuzzling into your neck. The only thing louder than his groans were your unholy moans of his name, curses, and incoherent babbles. “There we go. Taking me so well,” Sam panted. He continued to snap his hips into yours, your breast bouncing with every thrust.

Sam could feel your walls milking him, an indication you were getting close to your final orgasm. Sam knew your body better than you did, knowing exactly where your sweet spot was deep in your cunt. “You wanna cum for me? Hmm? Wanna be my good little whore and cum for me?” Sam asked, knowing the teasing would only provoke you further. You whined as you met his icy blue eyes, nodding profusely. “I wanna cum, please let me cum, oh- oh fuck!” You cried, your eyes rolling into the back of your head as you came on Sam’s cock. The blonde adored the feeling of your gummy walls clinging to him, his hips twitching as he came deep inside of you. You both were cold, panting messes, Sam reluctant to set you down. He knew that your legs tended to give out on you after cumming. “Let me get you cleaned up,” He murmured. He held your waist firmly, guiding you to stand on your own. You leaned against his chest, the blonde not failing to notice the goosebumps that were spreading across your skin from the cold shower.

You looked up at him, your eyes big as you admired your lover.

“I think it’s time for me to return the favor,” You said, lowering yourself onto your knees.